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CAMP-Jt'IRES OF THE REYOLUTION

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GENERAL LAFAYETTE AND CHARLEY MORaAN.

EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE OF TRENTON.

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CAMP-FIRES

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THE REYOLUTION

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ILLUSTRATED BY

THRILLING EVENTS AND STORIES

(Dli CnntiitJiital InUinS.

BY HENRY C. WATSON.

WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY CROOME.

PniLADELPIIIA:
LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON.

1850.

Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1850, Ij

LINDSAY & BLAKISTON.

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the

Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAK,
PRINTED BY C. SHERMAK.

THE

NEW YORK
PUBLIC LI9RARV1

F«widatiofis.

t533S

In presenting the " Camp-Fires of the Eevo-
lution" to the public, a few remarks may be
necessary, or, at least, will not be mal a2^roj)os.
The ''battles, sieges, fortunes,'' of the war in
which American Independence was secured, may
be found detailed in history, with all possible
accuracy, and elaborate criticism. But the suf-
ferings of the ill-furnished soldiers during the
long and dreary winters of that period, and
their means of whiling away the time when
forced to gather around the camp-fire and watch
when they had not tlie conveniences for sleep-
ing, are not to be found on the dignified page of
history. Yet are they worthy of being noted ;
and, by the aid of the few remaining heroes of
tliat terrible struggle, wlien '' Saxon met Saxon,"
— those few remaining Ihiks wliicli chain us to

the past, we may imagine tlie extent of tlieir

(iii)

iv PREFACE.

suffering, and the means they made use of to
draw their attention from its severity. It is
thought, a work upon the plan of the '' Camp-
Fires of the Eevolution,'' will bring the doings
and the scenes of the '' trying time" more vividly
before the mind than the common history. Here
we have the incidents of various battles, and the
exploits of chieftains, told as if by eye-witnesses,
and in the familiar, easily comprehended lan-
guage of the farmer and mechanic soldiers of
the American army. No later achievements of a
more dazzling character should withdraw the
admiration and the gratitude of the American
people from those iron-nerved patriots who, desti-
tute of most of the requisites of an army, con-
quered only because they were determined to
conquer. Their history affords the brightest
examples for the imitation of those who would
be truly brave and patriotic.

CONTENTS

The Camp-fire on Dorchester Heights . . . Page 13

" '« AT Cambridge 37

a " AT Mount Independence .... 52

" " AT Long Island T(3

a " AT SkIPPACK CrEEK 107

« '^ AT GeRMANTOWN 1-i-i

" <' AT Valley Forge lo2

« " AT Whitemarsh 165

« " AT White Plains ISl

« <' at Saratoga 218

" " at Middlebrook 235

u << AT Middlebrook (Continued) . . . 251

" " ON THE Susquehanna 268

« " AT Springfield 291

(v)

y] CONTENTS.

The Camp-fire at Morristown S09

a u ON THE OlD PeDEE ^41

a a IN THE SWAMP ' • ^^^

a a ON THE HiLLS OF SaNTEE .... 382

a «' NEAR Charleston 399

The Officers' Carousal 430

J

Monument to General iMontgoniery, at St. Taul's Church, New York.

GENERAL LAFAYETTE AND CHARLEY MORGAN . . Froxtispiecb.

THE EVENING AFTER TPIE BATTLE OF TRENTON . . Title-page,

THE EVENING BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL . Page 41

BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL 45

GENERAL WARREN 4G

THE SENTINEL

GENERAL GREENE 79

BATTLE OF TRENTON 119

GENERAL PUTNAM AND THE SENTINEL 148

GENERAL MJRGAN. . . .

108

(vii)

Vlll

ILLUSTRATIONS,

THE CAMP-FIRE AT SAKATOGA

. 220

BATTLE OF MONMOUTH 245

GENERAL WAYNE 295

BATTLE OF PRINCETON 403

WASHINGTON SENDING HIS ULTIMATUM TO COENWALLIS . .417

TEE OFFICERS CAROUSING AT VERPLANCK'S POINT .

431

CAMP-FIEES OF THE REVOLUTION.

THE CAMP-FIRE ON" DORCHESTER HEIGHTS.

A SEASON of gloom and anxiety, harassing as that
which preceded the action on Bunker Hill, had set in
upon that army of patriots which during ten months
had prosecuted the siege of Boston. A movement
was made silently, and by night, toward Dorchester
Heights; in the bright moonlight of a still March
evening, the chosen band, under General Thomas,
selected the ground, broke the frozen earth, and began
the erection of breastworks. No words were spoken,
save those of command, and they crept along the
lines in whispers ; none thought of rest, or complained
of fatigue ; but animated by the desire of liberty, by
the remembrance of Bunker Hill and Concord, and
by the thoughts of those who had been left at the
fireside, lonely and defenceless, they toiled witli an
alacrity and success which astonished themselves.
2 (13)

14 THE CAMP-FIRE OX

Far different was the scene on the phains. There,
throughout the night, the whole park of artillery,
superintended by Washington in person, played upon
the city of Boston, illuminating the sky with arches
of fire, and dimming the pale light of the moon.
Strange and bewildering was the spectacle to many
of the colonists ; for even after an actual warfare
of many months, they could not comprehend how
brethren of the same race could embrue their hands
in each other s blood. Yet the object of Washington
was less to annoy the enemy, than to conceal the
operations at Dorchester Heights. He succeeded;
and on the following day, the British troops beheld,
with admiration and astonishment, a series of breast-
w^orks, which, looming through the morning mist,
seemed, in their distorted proportions, to be the work
of giants.

Yet all this was but the prelude to a more exciting
scene. Throughout that day, the forts of Boston,
and the shipping in the harbour, maintained a heavy
fire upon the frail works on the Heights ; while Gene-
ral Thomas and his officers, mounted on horseback,
perceived, with the aid of their glasses, closely com-
pacted regiments marching toward the ferry. That
an attack was intended, none doubted ; and the heart
of many a patriot throbbed with mingled emotions,
as he thought on the prize which was to be staked on
the following morning.

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 15

The sun went down behind thin, misty clouds ; and
as the light grew fainter till it was lost in darkness,
the bustle and animation on each side increased.
The men on the Heights, no longer fearful of disco-
very, worked merrily; encouraging each other by
every means, until the fcastwork was finished.
Washington crossed over from the opposite plain,
that he might superintend the expected battle in
person ; the sturdy yeomanry, aroused by rumors of
the events of the two preceding days, poured into the
camp well armed, and threatening vengeance on the
foe ; and amid the uproar of a cannonade by night,
the brave men who had labored so assiduously,
raised their tents and built their fires amid showers
of earth and stones, struck from the hill by the
enemy's balls.

The men lay on their arms all night. Most of
them were soon sunk in slumber \ but there were a
few whom excitement would not sufier to sleep.
These, in small groups, sat around the blazing piles,
listening to the sounds which came at irregular inter-
vals from the city, or rehearsing stories of the last
years adventures. One of these groups, consisting
of four men, might be seen seated with their backs
against a huge bundle of hay, that formed part of the
works, and partaking with great satisfiiction of a
sliglit repast; making a table, of course, of their
knees.

16 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

"I hope tliey'll get across the Neck," remarked
one, whose name was Stuart.

" Heaven grant it !" was the answer. " If they do,
they'll remember Dorchester for some years, I'm
thinking. It will be a bloodier battle than Bunker
Hill. Think of poor Warren, boys !"

" He shall be revenged !" exclaimed another, named
Hadley. "As for me, I do n't see the use of this tire-
some business that they call a ^ siege.' Here we've
been marching, and drilling, and firing cannon, ever
since — let me see — was n't it June when old Putnam
fought on Bunker Hill ?"

Stuart answered in the affirmative.
" Well, ever since then. I know it was dreadful
hot, and we '11 soon have summer again ; so it 's been
almost a year. Why don't his excellency let us
march over at once, and drive the red-coat rascals and
tories out of town, as we did at Concord ?"

" Because he knows better than we do," Stuart re-
plied.

" Hark !" exclaimed the eldest of the four, named
Green. " Was that cannon ?"

A deep, crashing sound broke on the stillness w^hich
had reigned for a short time previous, and the echo
rolled heavily in the distance. Then all was again
silent, save that the breathing of the wearied men
was heard around, and sounds which seemed strange
and mysterious, came from the harbor. The party

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 17

grasped their muskets, and looked one upon another,
in breathless expectation.

"It sounded like thunder/' Stuart said, breaking
the silence.

" Not likely to thunder in the month of March/*
replied Green.

" But let 's keep quiet, boys, till we get orders ; for
you may depend upon it, we '11 have enough to do be-
fore many days."

" Tell us about Concord, Ben," said Stuart, address-
ing Hadley. " I wish I had been there with you."

" You may well wish that," was the reply, as Had-
ley placed himself in a more erect position, prepara-
tory to beginning upon his favourite theme.

" It was a glorious day ; and the neighbors rose in
their strength, to show the murderers of our people
who was going to be master. It made the blood tingle
in our veins, when we came to Concord, and saw our
poor countrymen lying by the roadside, and heard
that ruffian Pitcairn cursing the handful of men who
were flying before his bayonets !"

" Did our men run ?" enquired Barry.

" Yes," resumed Iladley, " till the boys from Read-
ing, Dorchester, and Boxbury, came up. Then we
went right at them. We didn't wait for a com-
mander ; we did n't besiege them ; but we beat them
clean up the old road from Concord to Lexington, and
from Lexington to Charlcstown, till every poor fellow
2 -^ B

18 THE CA3IP-FIRE ON"

wlio fell on our side was properly revenged — all be-
cause they called us rebels !"

"It icas a glorious day!" ejaculated Stuart, balf-
musingly.

"But tell us how it began, and all about it," said
Barry.

" So I will ; but let us stir up the fire first, for it 's
getting chilly. — You remember what a stir there was
in Boston, when Gage arrived with ' reinforcements/
as he called them. A worse-looking set of thieves
and rascals — for they are nothing else — you never
saw. They squinted maliciously at the neighbors
as they marched by ; and some of them had got so
used to that fashion, that they could n't look straight
when they tried ! I was in town then ; and I tell
you, lads, it was hard to keep hands off of them, even
though they did shoulder muskets. Some brisk lads
met, two or three days afterwards, to see if they
could plan some mischief against them ; but one, who
had been to college and read a great many books, per-
suaded them out of it. I think he was half a coward,
though he did know more than the rest of us.

" Things went on bad enough for more than a year,
but we didn't get to blows with the soldiers, because
the time hadn't come. Our great men had deter-
mined not to strike the first blow, and not to take the
second, without putting one in between. By and by,
the Boston men discovered that Gage had spies out,

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 19

who went through all the streets, prying into every-
body's business, and reporting anything that they
thought would hurt one of our men, to the officers.
Many a one was treated hard enough, merely because
these telltales informed on him. But still we kept
quiet, only trying to get one of these villains into a
by-place, where tar and feathers might be had. At
last, however, these fellows became such a nuisance,
that some working-men in town formed a society to
watch them ; and you may depend upon it, they did
the business close enough. Every night, even in the
depth of winter, they would be out, walking the
streets in all directions, mixing with the soldiers,
talking to the spies, and picking up all kinds of news
about the army, sometimes before it reached Gage's
men themselves. No weather could keep them from
their duty. These men waded through snow-storms,
breasted the rain, and travelled over the glib ice when
everything cracked with the cold. Once, one of them,
tired, I suppose, with working hard all day, stumbled
and fell into a frozen pond in the upper part of the
town, which came near costing him his life.

" There was a good deal of drilling among our boys
a])out the same time, and w^e continued to store up
some ammunition where Gage's men could n't find it.
The women helped us mightily in this work, know-
ing, as they did, so many nooks and corners where
things could ])e stowed away in safety. By and by

20 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

our men grew bolder. They stored their powder and
balls at Concord, not caring whether Gage knew of it
or not; and some of them talked pretty strongly
about kicking up a fuss, if the soldiers should be sent
to take away what didn't belong to them."

" They were sent, though," interrupted Barry.

" Yes — but do n't drive me ahead of the story. —
The battle, you know, took place on "Wednesday.
Well, on the Saturday previous, Dr. Warren observed
a great stir among the soldiers ; and before night a
good number of them were off duty, and pretending
to drill. But this was only a sham to deceive us ; for
you must know, lads, that Gage was as artful and as
sly as a black snake. Dr. Warren, however, watched
him close enough ; and about midnight what should
he behold but the sailors getting the boats ready to
cross over toward Concord. Then it was he felt sure
that no time was to be lost; so he sends Colonel
Revere to tell Mr, Adams and Mr. Hancock to take
care of themselves. These three talked over the
matter together at Lexington ; and it was agreed that
when Revere went back to Boston he should make
signals, to let the surrounding country know if the
rascally soldiers were going to attack them."

"Signals," interrupted Stuart; "what kind of
signals ?"

Scarcely was this question asked, when the same
heavy sound, which had disturbed the party before,

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 21

again broke on the stillness of the night. Now it
rolled near enough to convince them that it was
thunder ; and each one, on gazing around, beheld the
sky overcast with pitchy clouds, and the atmosphere
shrouded in thick darkness, while the wind rushed by
in fitful and powerful gusts. A feeling of gloom,
mingled with uneasy foreboding, stole upon the heart
of even the boldest; and after a vain attempt to
pierce the darkness with the eye, the little party
again drew close to their camp-fire, wrapped their
blankets around them, and awaited the conclusion of
Hadley's narration.

" I believe I left off at the signals," he resumed.
" It was managed, boys, in this way. If the soldiers
should march out by Roxbury, a light was to be hung
in North Church steeple ; but if they crossed in their
boats to the country, there were to be two lights.
— Revere got back to Boston on Sunday; and he
arranged matters with Dr. Warren, in such a manner
that Gage knew nothing about it. All day, on Mon-
day and Tuesday, our men were busy picking up
information about what the soldiers intended to do ;
but the busiest time was yet to come. All the town
was in alarm ; folks left their own houses and ran to
others, whenever anybody arrived with fresh news ;
no one talked loud, but only whispered. Few men
worked on those two days ; but you might see crowds
at the corners, speaking low, but rolling their eyes

22 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

like mad people, and clenching their hands as firm as
iron. Some were afraid to speak, or to listen when
others w^anted to speak; and a good number, not
knowing what might happen, were busily engaged in
hiding their little notions where they thought the
soldiers could n't get at them.

^^ After some time the fears of the people increased.
An order came on Tuesday, that no one should leave
Boston that night; but Warren had just sent Colonel
Eevere and Mr. Dawes to warn the whole neighbor-
hood ; so Gage was cheated, after all his pains. They
didn't forget to hang the lanterns in the steeple
either; and it was a sight to make one hold his
breath, to see those two dim lanterns burning in the
darkness, to warn the people of their danger. I was
going home that night, after being out to buy some
flour ; and the first thing I saw on looking toward
town, was the lights in the steeple. Thinks I to my-
self, ' There 's news, sure enough ;' and home I hurried
to Lexington, as fast as my horse could trot. Pretty
soon. Colonel Revere rode into the town, giving the
alarm wherever he went, and stating that the soldiers
were crossing Charlestown Neck.

" While the news was spreading through the town,
Mr. Dawes arrived. Both of them had been chased
by the British ; but they were true men, and were
afraid of nothing. At one o'clock on Wednesday
morning they started for Concord, and- our prayers

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 23

went with them ; but you remember they were both
taken on the road. The British left Revere behind,
fearing they would be pursued. And they had good
cause to fear ; for the whole country was by this time
alarmed, and the militia preparing to fight the minute
the first gun should be fired.

" Nor had they to wait long. At five o'clock on
Wednesday morning, a man on horseback, without
cap or coat, galloped into Lexington, shouting that
the British were coming up the road. Some called
to him to stop ; but he rushed on in that mad way
toward Concord. Then it was that the blood boiled
in our veins. We remembered the insults and threats
which had been heaped upon us so long, and swore
that they should be revenged that day. Some ran
through the streets, waving their hats over their
heads, and hurraing for their rights. The women
hurried from house to house, gathering muskets for
the militia, and carrying ammunition in their aprons.
No one was idle, and no one was afraid to face all the
British troops — ^yes, and to fight them, too, if fighting
was to be done.

"At last the drum beat to arms. We seized our
muskets and rushed to the green. Captain Parker
drew us up, seventy strong, in double rank ; telling
us to fight bravely in the cause of freedom. It was
only a little while after that, that the clouds of dust
in the road told that the enemy were coming. Then

24 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

we heard their drums beating, and saw the bayonets
peeping out from the dust, and glittering in the sun.
One company after another came in sight, until our
little party looked like a mere handful, compared
to them. But we did not fly — not when we saw the
officers pointing at us with their swords, and the
men lowering their guns for a charge. Our hearts
were beating, but not with fear : no, we would have
been cut to pieces before one of us would have acted
cowardly ! But what could seventy men do against
nearly a thousand ? We had not long to consider.
Their leader galloped up lik a madman; cursing,
shouting, and ordering us to disperse. It was hard
to let him finish without letting fly at him; but our
captain told us we must keep quiet. All at once they
poured a volley upon us. No one was hurt ; and as
we didn't choose to run for their powder, we faced
them just as boldly as before. Seeing this, they fired
again; and then the dreadful scene began. How
many fell, I had no time to find out, before I heard a
deep groan on my left. It seemed to me that I knew
the voice ; and turning round, I saw my poor brother
lying on his back, with his eyes turned up toward
me."

" But he was n't shot ?" enquired Stuart.

«^ Shot — dying — the blood pouring from his side.
I could contain myself no longer; but pulled the
trigger of my musket so that it broke in my hand."

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 25

"And did the others fire, too?" enquired Barry.

" Yes — but I liave forgotten all that followed till
we left Lexington. My brain reeled ; and though I
heard the shouts of the British as they advanced, I
did not see them. I was trying to assist poor Sam,
but the tide bore me on ; and when I regained my
senses, I was standing in a field, with two or three
other men, uttering, as they told me, the wildest lan-
guage against my brother's murderers."

" But where were they first checked ?" asked Green.

" Not till they got to Concord. It was then seven

o'clock. All the militia in town were drawn up on

the hills; and the news of the affair at Lexington

filled them with fury. The enemy marched to the

storehouses, broke them open, and began the work of

destruction. The flour was emptied into the river ;

the ball, which we had gathered with so much care,

stolen or sunk in wells, and our two cannon battered

and abused till they were unfit for use. We let them

do it all quietly, but swore that every pennyworth

should be taken out of their red jackets. Next they

began to break up the bridges ; and this was more

than we could bear. We were getting stronger

every minute ; for the farmers came up to the scratch

like men, and all the towns were ringing their bells,

and sending messengers in every direction, to get up

a general rising. I had joined the party on the hills.

We couldn't wait any longer; but down we went,

3

20 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

Yv^ith gallant Davis at our head, waving his sword,
and calling on us to strike for freedom, but not to give
the first blow. Near the bridge they fired upon, us
again, and Davis, with another man, fell dead. We
flung back a volley that made the old hills echo ; and
half a dozen of Gage's men dropped. They wheeled
and fired again, and we did the same, till the guns
cracked merrily all around, and we saw them falling
as our men did at Lexington. The enemy didn't
stand it long, but went back to the town in a greater
hurry than they had quitted it. But we were after
them in hot pursuit. British guns could n't frighten
us as the name once did ; for every one was deter-
mined to fight it out, if he should be riddled for it.
You may believe it cheered our hearts as we chased
the cowards, to see the old men, too feeble to fight,
and wives and mothers, at the windows, encouraging
us to push on, and waving their handkerchiefs, in-
stead of flags.

" Then it was we heard the old drums, that had
been with us when we whipped the French, beating
along the roads to Concord, and telling us that help
was at hand. And soon the hills and lanes were
swarming with the boys from Beading and Boxbury,
who had heard of their friends being shot, and had
come to ask satisfaction. And when we saw them
coming, shouting that more were behind, and heard
the bells tolling for the dead, and giving the alarm to

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 27

tlie living, we rushed headlong on the murderers, and
drove both them and their commander out of the
town. Then they began their retreat toward Boston,
trying to march decently for a little while, as though
not afraid of us. But we soon helped their pace,
paying particular attention to their rear and flanks.
The boys who didn't pursue, got among the rocks
and bushes, and peppered them as they went along.
There was some shouting among us, when they began
to run like a flock of sheep, with their long guns over
their shoulders, and their faces as wdiite as a tent-
cloth. When they were near one of the gaps opening
into the road. Captain Parker lighted on them with
his little party from Lexington. He galled their
flank properly till they passed, and then joined in the
pursuit. Militia came on as though they were spring-
ing from the ground ; and the sides of the road blazed
with one sheet of fire after another. ! it was
glorious to be in that chase — glorious ! Remember,
boys, how often we were insulted by Gage, and called
^rebels,' or 'Yankees,' by his men ! Yes, and cowards,
too — cowards ! The blood boils at the word ! And
then our bleeding men behind us ! — It was glory, I
say, lads, to chase the rascals like deer up the road,
and make them feel that 'rebels' could fight as well
as they !

" They were running pretty swiftly before they
reached Lexington; the oflicers behind shouting

28 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

as loud as they could, but to no purpose. While
some were hurrying on, they trod down others ; and
these we took special care of. The poor fellow^s who
had been wounded were thrown into wagons, and
hurried to the front ; for these brutes, if they could
but save their own lives, cared no more for their men
than they did for us. But at last some of the officers
got to the front, and pushed their heroes back with
svford and bayonet. Then they began to form, — we
peppering them all the time to our hearts' content,
till their ranks looked like a broken pale-fence. And
believe me, boys, had that other mob of cowards
stayed away a little longer, we would have read them
a lesson, on the knock-dow^n part of war, which they
would have remembered as long as they were in the
service."

" How many came to their help ?" Green enquired.

" Nine hundred, with two field-pieces."

" But how did Gage know that we had beat them ?"
asked Barry.

'^ Know ?" resumed the narrator j " everybody knew
it. I told you that the old bells were talking from
every steeple. One or two of the soldiers, who could
run faster than the others, had got to Cambridge;
and Colonel Smith, who led the party, had also sent
a messenger to Boston, to give information of how
matters were going.

^^The reinforcement was commanded by Lord

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 29

Percy, as he calls himself; but he's no better than a
farmer or a militia-man, if he is a lord -, and so he
found out before the battle was over. He stopped
our firing for awhile, with his field-pieces ; but they
could n't scare us either ; — we were no more afraid of
them than we were of the musketry. Percy's arrival
was a welcome aid to the retreating party ; and they
dropped at once on the ground, unable to move hand
or foot, and panting with their tongues out like dogs.
His lordship placed his troops around them in a
square, making a great show, and firing up the road
with his cannon. Our boys were n't fools enough to
attack just then, but waited for the signal of march-
ing. This was given in about half an hour ; and at
the same moment we were up, creeping through the
bushes, and around the hills, but keeping out of range
of the cannon. When the red-coats saw what we
were about, they were very anxious to get a shot at
us ; but seeing they could n't, then, just out of spite,
they set old Billy Wilson's house on fire. The old
man had been with us all day; and as he had just
got over the ague a week before, he felt tired enough.
But when he saw his house burning, he says, ' Boys,
we must take the price out of their skins, for we
won't get it any other way !" and so he joined again
in the pursuit. By and by, they set fire to another
house, and then another, till nearly all the houses on
the Lexington road were in flames. Many a poor

30 THE CAMP-FIRE OX

fellow, just beginning life, lost all lie had; and we
could see women running with their children to hide
among the bushes and behind trees. All that had
happened before did n't excite us half as much as this
sight ', and we swore to have vengeance, in spite of
their field-pieces. A goodly party hurried on to
West Cambridge ; for we were determined to make a
stand there. It was a lucky thought; for General
Heath himself was there, with Dr. Warren. We
cheered loud enough at the sight of them ; but they
told every man to be quiet, and do his duty. Then
we were placed in regular fighting order ; and pretty
soon a whole party of our lads came up from Brook-
line and Dorchester. We were quiet enough till the
soldiers came by, and then we rushed right at them.
Some of them were for running, but the officers drove
them back. They then blazed away at us with a
cannon, and John Miller was shot through the breast.
He was a brave fellow, and with his last breath he
called to us to push on. And on we did push, till we
got too near for the cannon to be aimed at us. Then
each one had .to scratch for himself; and you may
rely on it, boys, the rebellion went on briskly. They
kept charging on us with their bayonets; but we
slipped out of the road; and then the way clubs,
pitchforks, flails, and muskets, swung round them,
wasn't slow. Old Deacon Growler hit a little red-
faced captain such a blow with the butt^end of his

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 31

musket, right under tlie ear, as lifted him off the
ground ; and just as a soldier was aiming his bayonet
at Jake Long's ribs, his face was smashed flat by an-
other awful thwack from the Deacon, who quoted
Scripture all the time, as if he was leading a prayer-
meeting. Tom Simmons brought down a horseman,
who was shouting, ' Cut down the rebels ! cut them
down !' and another man, who leaned over his horse
to look at his companion, tumbled headforemost over
him, shot through the back. The others slipped off
their horses in double-quick time ; but now and then
we got a shot at them, if they did mix with the
foot-soldiers. Everything among them was by this
time in a good deal of confusion ; and we could see
clearly enough that some of them were more anxious
to get out of the fuss, than they were to get into it.
But we stuck to them close as pine-knots, sending one
after another out of misery, and shouting loud enough
to be heard clear over the hills. They had quit call-
ino: us ^Yankees' more than two hours before; but
we were not ashamed of the name ; and so we hurraed
for the Yankees with all our might. It made them
mad enough ; but our blood was up, and they had to
take it."

'' How many do you suppose they lost ?" enquired
Barry.

^^ About a hundred, without counting the prisoners
or the wounded. So you see it was no wonder they

32 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

got tired of it. — At last, seeing there was no chance
to get off, they began to fight desperately ; but they
didn't drive us back till both the cannon were
brought up, and then we slipped to one side ; — not
that we were afraid, but we did n't want to stand
there, and let them have all the shooting to them-
selves. As soon as they moved again, we posted
after them ; and a hot race it was, the whole way up
to Charlestown Heights. I do n't know but that we
would have attacked them even there, during the
night, if Gage hadn't sent his whole force over to
their assistance."

" Did you get home safe ?" asked Green.

" We did n't go home at all," Hadley replied. " I
tell you, old man, the whole country, for miles around,
was in arms. Our men were out in all directions,
spreading the glorious news that a battle had been
fought, and that the red-coats had got a thrashing.
It was sunset before we chased them into Cambridge -,
yet, when I stood on one of the neighboring hills, I
could hear the old drums beating far off, and see
signals shot up by parties that were hurrying on to
help us. No — we did n't think of going home ; for,
as I said before, our blood was up, and we were deter-
mined to stay and see it out. We wanted Charley
Ellis to leave us for the night, and go to a farm-house
a good distance from his home, where he had left his
mother and sisters two days before ; but he says to

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS- 33

US ^BoySj mother and Lucy, and the rest, are safe
enough, so long as we keep the red-coats in Boston ;
and I 'm going to stay and do my share at it !' And
Squire Hawthorne's son, who had been married only
three days, when we asked him why he stayed away
from his young wife, made answer, that it was to de-
fend her. He had fought like a dragon the whole
day — all, as he said, for the sake of Lizzy. Eben-
ezer Grant was out, too. You know, Stuart, what a
cross old dog he used to be."

" Yes, I do," was the answer. " He nearly broke
my Bill's head, one morning, because he hurraed for
liberty; and when I went down to see about it, I
found him as crooked as a crab-tree. He swore I was
wrong, and the British were wrong, and the rioters
were wrong — all were wrong. People thought he
was half a tory."

'^ So they did," resumed Hadley ; " but they were
wrong, too. He is as good a patriot as any of us.
Early that morning, just before the fight at the
bridge, who should join us but Ebenezer, with his
musket over his shoulder, swearing he 'd shoot every
red-coat he could take aim at. TVe could scarcely
make him wait till we moved ; but the way the
old man loaded and fired when the battle did begin,
was encouraging. He could n't well keep up with us,
on account of his sore foot; but two of them, who
had no guns, helped him along, and he fired and

c

34 THE CAMP-FIRE ON

loaded, saying, if they 'd walk for him, he 'd fight for
them.

" When Hawthorne spoke about fighting from love
of his wife, Ebenezer told him that he didn't like
fighting from love ; and that as for himself, the little
he did was out of pure hate to the red-coats. We
got used to the old man before the battle v/as over,
and found there was a great deal of dry humor in
him after all. He stayed with us all night."

" When did the siege commence ?" asked one of the
party.

"Eight away. There was no time lost. Next
day, old Putnam joined us, and began to put things
to rights. He had left his plough in the furrow, on
hearing of the battle, and rode a hundred miles to
join us. Heath was also on the ground, and the
' provincials,' as they are called, continued to pour in
from all quarters."

By this time, the storm was raging without, with
real equinoctial fury ; and the tents of the men were
thoroughly saturated with the drenching shower.
Hadley stopped his narrative, and with his three
•companions looked out of the tent-door. The dark-
ness had increased to a pitchy gloom, and through
the thick atmosphere, teeming with floods of rain, no
ray of light could be seen. Hadley gazed for a mo-
ment, and then turning to the others, remarked : —

" They will not cross to-night."

DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. 35

Green shook his head. " No boat could brave such
a storm as this.'"

" We shall have no fight to-morrow," said Hadlej,
despondingly ; " the very elements are against us."

^^ Perhaps it's for the best," remarked Barry; ^^for
when the red-coats attack us next, it will be worse
than Bunker Hill for both parties."

"Are you afraid of them?" asked Stuart.

"Ned Barry was never afraid!" was the answer.
"All I say is, that perhaps the storm was sent by
Providence, for some good purpose that we know no-
thing of."

" I can't say as to that," returned Hadley ; "' but I
know we can beat the red-coats, any day they choose
to try us !"

"No doubt of it, boys!" Green ejaculated; "but
there's some of them on the bay, or I'm mistaken.
Just listen."

"I hear men's voices," whispered Barry, after a
pause.

" So did I. They seem to be crying for help."

There ensued a short period of racking silence.

" Hark," said Stuart ; — "if the wind would only
stop blowing for a minute."

Then came the report of a gun, pealing fiiintly up
the Heights ; — another and another followed. The
hearts of the four men leaped with excitement.

" They are sinking !" Green exclaimed.

Ob THE CAMP-FIRE AT DORCHESTER.

Another interval of anxiety followed; but they
heard no more ; and at length each one retired to his
rude bed. Their camp-fire faded and expired during
the storm, and when daylight broke over the Heights
of Dorchester, it apprized the anxious provincials of
the frustration of the plans of the enemy. An at-
tempt of General Gage to effect a passage for his
troops to the American side, was prevented by the
storm; and the militia who had heard the sounds
from the water during the night, believed that they
were uttered by some of the soldiers who had perished
in the storm.

Boston, from Dorchester Heights

n

Death of Warren.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT CAMBRIDGE.

The winter of 1776 found the American army
still encamped at Cambridge and its vicinity. The
winter had come on, and found the army with but
few tents, scarcely any clothing, very little ammuni-
tion, and about two thousand men were without fire-
locks. The winter, fortunately, proved to be a mild
one, and little ice was formed till the middle of
February, when it was so strong as to enable the
troops to march over it from Eoxbury to Dorchester.
The Heights were secured and fortified in the night,
while the attention of the British was diverted by an
incessant cannonading and bombardment, kept up
during three nights, from Lechmere's Point, Cobble
llill, and Roxbury. The American army was so
posted as to form a complete line of siege, extending
from Mystic River to Dorchester, a distance of nearly
4 C3')

38 THE CAMP-FIRE

twelve miles. The far-seeing Washington had ar-
ranged his army in three divisions, each consisting of
two brigades, or six regiments, and in such a manner
as to bring the troops from the same colony together,
and under the command of officers from that colony.
The right wing, at Koxbury, was under the command
of Major-General Ward ; the centre division, at Cam-
bridge, was commanded by Major-General Putnam;
and the left wdng, at Winter Hill, by Major-General
Lee. The head-quarters of the commander-in-chief
were at Cambridge.

It was March, of '76. The attack on Dorchester
Heights having been prevented by a violent storm,
General Howe had resolved to evacuate Boston ; and
Washington and his army saw with pride and gratifi-
cation, that their object was gained. The militia
who had joined the army with the expectation of
encountering the enemy on Dorchester Heights, and
there avenging the blood of their countrymen, shed
on the day of which that was the anniversary, had
been disappointed; yet were still satisfied with the
knowledge that their foes were compelled to leave
Boston. The night was chilly, and the troops at
Cambridge had slight covering. Rudely-constructed
tents, and scant clothing, were insufficient for the un-
certain changes of the weather in that latitude. The
moon was shining clearly, but her beams were cold as
the smile on the face of the dead. Around a fire in

AT CAMBRIDGE. oy

one of tlie tents, four men %Yerc sitting. Each was
dressed in the hunting-shirt, adopted by Washington
to banish provincial distinctions ; but the rest of their
clothing differed as much as possible ; the coarseness
of material being about the only point of resemblance.
They were sitting on logs, which they had cut as
substitutes for chairs. On the fire, which was con-
tained in the space formed by four large stones, placed
at right angles, something was cooking ; no doubt in-
tended for their evening meal.

"Jonathan, hand over a little more wood this way,
will you ? There 's no use of bein' stingy about fire
to-night ; besides, that 'ere fodder won't get done afore
my appetite 's all gone," said one of the men, whose
form may be described as ' linked leanness, long drawn
out.'"

" Oh, there 's no end to your appetite ! it can't all
go, Zeb," said Jonathan, as he handed the wood over
to the first speaker.

" How near 's the vittles done ?" asked another of
the men, anxiously.

" Pretty near," answered the one who had not yet
spoken. " It 's done now for some folks. Our Judith
used to like her meat very rare."

" I like rare meat myself," said Jonathan. '* But I
don't suppose that'll 'zactly suit the rest of you. I
think we ought to have somethin' to drink to-
night."

40 THE CAMP-FIRE

" I wonder if tliey won't get up a glorification in
Boston, when the Britishers get out of it ?" remarked
Zeb ; " I think they oughter."

"When are the red-coats goin' to leave Boston?"
asked one of the men, called Hiram.

" I think it 's on the seventeenth of this month/'
answered Jonathan. " It 's a great pity the folks on
the Heights didn't get a chance at 'em. I think
they 'd have given 'em a little louder tune than was
played on Bunker Hill."

" Not much doubt about that/' said another of the
party, named Josiah. . ''■*'^.'

" Yes, there is some doubt al^out • it, though," con-
tinued Jonathan. "I was tlrar'at Bunker Hill; I
seed it all ; and I tell you, that tliar would have to be
a reg'lar screamer played, to beat the tune we played
for 'em that day !"

" Waal, you need n't go off so quick," returned
Zeb. "I've heerd thar was some shootin' done on
Bunker Hill ; and it 's likely thar would have been
some done at Dorchester Heights."

" Yes, but I tell you that thar was more 'n some
shootin' at Bunker Hill," Jonathan replied.

It was plain that Jonathan wanted to relate all he
knew about Bunker Hill ; so his comrades thought
they might as well have the story at once.

"Jonathan," said Hiram, "you say you were on
the ground, at the battle of Bunker Hill. S'posen

If Mt,W YORK \

THE EVENING BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.

AT CAMBRIDGE. 41

you tell us all you know about the affair, and that '11
settle the matter m dispute."

*• Cert'iuly/' replied Jonathan. " I '11 let you know
all that I Know about it, and then you can tell your
folks. Take off the meat first, though; and you
share it, Zeb, while I go on with the story."

Zeb took the meat off the fire, and laid it on a
piece of wood, preparatory to its being divided into
four shares with a pocket-knife. Jonathan com-
menced : —

" Waal, fellers, you must know, in the first place,
that the ginerality of people are mistaken about the
place where the battle was fought. They call it the
battle of Bunker Hill, when it was fought on Breed's
Hill. The reason of it may be, that the continent-
allers, — that is, we, — were ordered to march to Bun-
ker Hill, and throw up ' entrenchments,' as they call
'em ; but it bein' night-time, a mistake was made
somehow, and we marched to Breed's Hill, that is just
over here, a little nearer to Boston than Bunker Hill.
We numbered a thousand men, and Colonel Prescott
was at our head. We started pretty soon after dark,
and marched as quietly as possible for a thousand
men to move, but could n't begin to get on Breed's
Hill, and get to work, before twelve o'clock. The
moon shone bright all the time, and we could see tlie
ships of the Britishers standin' a short way out from
the land. They did n't seem to know anything about
4 *

42 THE CAMP-FIRE

our bein' on the hill. Each man had a shovel, or a
pickaxe, or a spade, to throw up the entrenchments
with ; and there were a fe^v lanterns taken with us,
to be used in case of necessity. Waal, we went to
work about twelve o'clock 5 and the way we threw
the dirt about was almost a sin. We worked in that
way for about five hours, I guess. Anyhow, it was
just daylight when we finished a redoubt about eight
rods square. We then set to work to throw up a
breastwork extendin' from the east side of the redoubt
to the bottom of the hill. We had just fairly got this
breastwork under way, when the Britishers discovered
us, and then they commenced firin' on us from all
parts; from their ships, their floatin' batteries, and
from their other fortifications, wherever they could
have a chance at us. Waal, we did n't mind it much,
but kept on with our work till we got the breastwork
finished. They kept up their firin' and bombardin'
till noon ; but in spite of all the bomb-shells and the
cannon-balls, we only lost one man. We continued
to work, makin' our redoubt and breastwork stronger,
all the forenoon. We got a reinforcement of about
five hundred men, and that made our whole force
about fifteen hundred ; but I think we men that had
been at work all night oughter have been relieved.
We did n't even get anything to eat before the battle.
About one o'clock, I guess it was, we saw the red-
coats cross the river from Boston, and land near

AT CAMBRIDGE. 4o

Cliarlestown. There must have been a good deal
more of 'em than we could muster. Waal, they
formed on the shore at Moreton's Point, but stayed
there. While they were waitin', a party of our men.
under Captain Knowlton, pulled up a post-and-rail
fence, and puttin it right square with another one,
filled up the space with some new-mown hay that was
lyin' near. This was a slender concern; but the
party that held it kept the Britishers from cuttin' off
our retreat. We soon saw that another detachment
of the red-coats was comin' over the^ river ; and when
they all got landed, I guess there must have been
twice as many of 'em as there was of us. I do n t
raaly think we had mor 'n fifty bagonets among the
whole of us. Old, rusty firelocks, and powder-horns,
w^ere the most we could muster. Some of the guns
looked as if they 'd been in the old French war. We
had five pieces of cannon, and the Britishers had four
or Hve times that many. Waal, they come on slowly
after they had formed, to give their cannon time to
blaze away at our works. They come up the hill in
two columns. We were all at our posts behind the
breastwork and in the redoubt. I was put behind
the breastwork. I knew there was goin to be a
bloody time of it, and I kept my eyes fixed on the
army that was comin up the hill."

"Where was Putnam and Prescott then?" inter-
rupted Zeb.

44 . THE CAMP-FIRE

"Oh, Putnam^ and Prescott, and Warren, and
Pom^roy, were speechifyin' to the men, cheerin' 'em,
and makin' 'em savage for the fight. "Warren had his
musket, goin' to fight like the rest of us. We could
see the houses in Boston crowded on top with people,
and the hills all around crowded in the same way.
I thought I was goin' to fight for their good, and I felt
strong. While the red-coats were comin' up the hill,
we saw that Charlestown had been set on fire ; and
that made me more like a bloodhound still. I wanted
to get a chance at the infernal rascals. Waal, we got
our orders from Putnam .not to 'fire until v^^e could see
the white of their eyes; and we. waited quietly till
they got within about sixty y^rds, and then such a
blaze and roar of musketry run" along that breastwork
as never was seen. Such a stream of fire went into
the British ranks, that they fell, it seemed to me,
whole rows at a time. Of course they could n't stand
that. They broke and run down the hill, in spite of
their officers. That give us a little breath ; and we
waited in the same way as before, to see if they
would come up to the work again. We got the same
orders as before, and kept our fire back. After a good
deal of coaxin' and bullyin' from their officers, we saw
the red-coats comin' up the hill again, with their
general near the head, with his officers around him.
We let 'em get as near as before, and then let fly at
em. We picked 'em off with our true aim, till their

THf

(I (NitW YORK

P5
12;

o

H
H

'^iili]i,liiii,l„JLi!,..ibIlb''' .^

AT CAMBRIDGE. 45

ranks were thinned all along the line, and then back,
down the hill, they went again, like a flock of scared
sheep. We hardly thought they 'd come up and try
it again ; the whole hill in front of the breastwork
was covered with the killed and wounded. It seemed
like leadin' the men up to be butchered. But Howe
and some of the other officers rallied 'em again. The
officers were good on the side of the Britishers ; for
though they were picked off by our marksmen as fast
as they came to the charge, those who were still alive
rallied the men, and brought 'em up again, sometimes
at the sword's point. Just as they were comin up
the hill for the third time, we discovered that our
powder was most gone, and that we could n't get any
more then : then was when the day began to turn
against us. The Britishers had changed the position
of their cannon, and they began to rake our breast-
work from end to end, so that we had to leave it and
take to the redoubt. Then the Are from all the bat-
teries of the Britishers grew louder and hotter than
ever. The red-coats came up to the work again, and
we blazed into them with what ammunition we liad.
It was just then that I saw that major, that led the
party of red-coats at Lexington, mount our breast-
work. He cried out, ' The day is ours !' but he had
no sooner got the words out, than I shot him in the
body, and he fell back into the arms of another
officer, just behind liim."

46 THE CAMP-FIRE •

" The day was ir t for him, was it ?" said Hiram.

"No; but he was a brave man," replied Jonathan.
" I marked out Howe two or three times, but I always
hit somebody else near him."

^^Some Howe you didn't hit," remarked Josiah,
with a desperate effort at a pun.

"Ezactly," answered Jonathan. "But, as I was
sayin , the red-coats come up to the work again, and
attacked the redoubt on three sides. Our amminition
was out, and a retreat was ordered by the commander
of the day, Colonel Prescott ; but we did n't feel in
the humor of retreatin'. We knew that if we had
had enough amminition we would have whipped the
red-coats, and we did n't want to give up the ground.
The red-coats mounted the walls of the redoubt ; but
we clubbed our muskets and fought for every inch of
ground we give 'em, though they had bagonets and
we had none. I was one of the last to leave the re-
doubt, and I saw "Warren fightin' like a common
soldier, I guess the redoubt must have been half full
of red-coats before we left it. We had still to fight
while we were retreatin' ; for they were upon us with
their bagonets. I had to swing my musket on every
side, to get clear of 'em. I saw Warren fall. I think
he was shot in the body. Some of our men run up
to him, and took him in their arms, as the Britishers
crowded on to get at him with their bagonets. I had
to fight my way to the rest of our men that were re-

AT CAMBllIDGE. ^7

treatin', and got cut two or three times with their
bagonets ; but none of 'em hurt me much, and I got
safe to Charlestown Neck, just as our troops were
crossin'."

" Did you lose many in retreatin ?" asked Zeb.

" I think that 's the time we lost the most. Their
bagonets done all the damage. But if we had had
amminition enough, they never would have had a
chance to use their bagonets !" replied Jonathan.

'^ Waal, Jonathan, who brought off the troops, in
the retreat?" Hiram enquired.

" Prescott and Putnam, I believe," answered Jona-
than. Prescott was only a colonel, and there was
two or three generals on the ground; but he had
command all through the battle — and a better com-
mander, or a braver soldier, was n't on the ground.
He 's a vet'ran of the French war."

"You lost your artillery, didn't you?" was the
next question.

" Yes ; we had no way of bringin' 'em off the
ground in time," continued Jonathan. '*' We held on
to 'em as long as we could."

" Waal," remarked Zeb, " they bought that ground
pretty dearly. Accordin' to the accounts I 've heard,
they lost as many in killed and wounded as we had
{iltogether; while our loss was only about four hun-
dred and fifty, killed and wounded."

"Yes, they did buy the ground at a high price,"

iS THE CAMP-FIRE

was the reply; "and I hope they'll buy all the
ground they try to get, at the same dear rate. I 've
heard it said that General Gage reports the loss at a
thousand and fifty-four. I think eighteen hundred
would n't more 'n cover it. Then there was more 'n
eighty officers killed and wounded. We only had a
hundred and thirty-nine killed, and two hundred
and seventy-eight wounded. Then there was thirty-
six taken i^risoners by the Britishers ; some of 'em,
I know, might have got away, if they had n't stopped
to see to General Warren."

" Where did Warren fall ?" asked Zeb.
"Just outside of thV 'redoubt. I don't know
whether the red-coats killed him with their bagonets
or not. I suppose they did. ' I hardly know which
he was best at doin' — fightin', or speakin'. I heard
him speak about the Boston massacre ; and I thought
he was about the best I ever heard speak. He made
the blood bile in my veins. I felt as if I could
do anythin' to torment them infernal red-coats. I
saw him in the battle, as I told you ; and I do n't
think a better soldier ever went into a battle. He
was n't only brave himself, but he made others brave
that were round him."

" He was always a great man," said Zeb. " They
say a great man is great at all times and in all places ;
and if ever there was such a one, it was General
Warren !"

OENEKAL WARREN,

AT CAMBRIDGE. 49

" That 's true as gospel/' Jonathan returned. " He
was a great man at all times."

" It 's a great pity he fell so soon in the war. I
hardly know where we are goin' to get a man to fill
his place/' remarked Hiram.

"Why, in Washington we've got one/' replied
Jonathan. " Perhaps he 's a greater man than War-
ren."

" He 's at least his equal in goodness/' said Josiah.
" I know, from his care of us, that his heart 's in the
right place ; and he has a reputation for bein' a com-
plete general."

" We 've got a good deal to see of General Wash-
ington yet," Hiram remarked. " I think he '11 come
up to expectation, though. This forcin' the British
to leave Boston, is a good specimen of what he can
do."

" Yes, it 's a good deal for such a poorly-provided
army as this to do/' returned Jonathan. " There 's
Major-General Howe, with ten thousand of the best
of the British troops, goin' to march out of Boston ;
glad to get away from an army of men mostly just
from the plough, and a good many of 'em without
muskets. It 's a rare thing, I tell you !"

" I wish they had tried a battle at Dorchester*
Heights/' said Hiram. " It would have been some-
thin' to brag on, I know."

The men had finished their repast while they were

5 D

50 THE CAMP-FIRE

talking, and they were now anxious to obtain a little
rest. The fire was fixed to keep burning all night,
by a large log being put on one side, and the fire
under and alongside of it ; after which, the men went
around the tent, endeavoring to stop up all the cracks
and openings as well as they could. They continued
in conversation, however, till they were wrapped in
their blankets and disposed for sleep.

'' I say, Zeb," Jonathan remarked, " how I would
like to see the red-coats movin' out of Boston 1 They
will look so down in the mouth !"

" Yes, I wish we could only get into it before they
get away," replied Zeb. " I 'd hke to have a laugh at
'em."

" They threaten to burn down the town, if they 're
meddled with while leavin' Boston," said Hiram.

" They 're devils enough to do it, too," said Josiah,
stretching himself on one side of the fire.

"1 believe there's some tories among the folks,
that would set fire to the city to spite the whigs !"
Zeb remarked, following suit on the other side.

Jonathan and Hiram stretched themselves on the
vacant sides of the fire, well wrapped up in their
blankets ; prepared, like the rest, for the visitation of
♦the drowsy god.

" Josiah," said Jonathan, '^ you 're generally about
the first one awake in the mornin' ; just crow to-mor-
row mornin', will you, when you get awake ? I want

AT CAMBRIDGE.

51

to get up early, and we 've got no roosters round this
neighborhood !"

Josiah returned no answer ; but the substitution of
him for a rooster, caused a hearty laugh from those
who were awake. One by one they joined him in his
travels through the land of dreams ; and the occa-
sional crackling of the fire, and the quiet tread of the
sentinels, were the only sounds that broke the still-
ness of the tent.

w nxluu^'ou's Ilcttd-Quurlers at Cunibriil^.

General Schuyler's Residence, Schuylerville.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE

The memorable invasion of Canada, in 1776, so full
of successes, defeats, hardships, and sufferings, had
terminated in the retreat of the American troops. In
the place of the able and faithful General Schuyler,
General Gates was appointed to command the north-
ern army, and through his exertions it soon became
more regular in its discipline, and improved in con-
dition in every respect. Instead of meditating the
commencement of offensive operations. Gates was
compelled to prepare to repel an invasion threatened
by the British in Canada. The army under Gates had
increased, during the summer, to 12,000 men. Upon
learning that Sir Guy Carleton had evacuated Crown

(52)

CAMP-FIRE AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 53

Point, General Gates dismissed the militia that had
joined him, with many thanks for their services;
this lessened the trouble of procuring provisions, a
difficulty that became greater as the winter set in.

The famous post of Ticonderoga, on Lake Cham-
plain, was the head-quarters of General Gates. The
possession of this strong position was absolutely
necessary to any power which was contending for the
command of the adjacent country. Its eastern side
was naturally almost impregnable : being situated on
a rocky promontory, it presented a rugged front to
the lake. The northern and western sides were pro-
tected by strong lines of defence, aided by an exten-
sive morass. The surrounding country, beyond the
morass, was composed of a thick and tangled wood.
In this fortress, a large portion of the troops were
stationed. Mount Independence, directly opposite to
Ticonderoga, was strongly fortified, and well supplied
with artillery. On the summit of the Mount, which
is table-land, was erected a strong fort, in the centre
of which was a convenient square of barracks, which
were occupied by the troops.

It was about the first of November. The weather
was chilly and raw, but winter's approach was not
yet severely felt. For about two weeks previous,
there had been an anxious expectation that Sir Guy
Carlcton would make an attempt to capture the posts
of Ticonderoga and Mount Independence; but ex-
5*

54 THE CAMP-FIRE

pectation had been disappointed; for Carleton, con-
vinced of the strength of the works, was induced to
abandon the project, and return to Canada. This, of
course, gave a feeling of security to the garrisons of
the two posts. They had nothing to fear till about
the middle of January, when the lake would be frozen
over, capable of bearing horses, and an attack might
be made with more prospect of success.

It was a moonlight night ; beautiful, though cold.
The soft light was flowing upon the scene of lake, and
hill, and valley, bathing them in beauty. The bosom
of the lake was gently ruffled by the chilly breeze,
and the ripples sparkled in the silvery light. The
black-mouthed cannon loomed from the fort on the
mount, as if to warn a foe, if such were near, of the
death that awaited an attack. Most of the men were
in the barracks, glad to get near a good, cheerful fire,
and enjoy each other's conversation. Some, more
sensible to the beauties of such a night, were walking
out on the open space within the walls of the fort,
enjoying the scene presented to their view. The
company around a fire in one of the apartments in
the barracks, shall interest us at present with their
conversation. The fire was built upon a large hearth
on one side of the apartment ; and about a dozen men
were sitting round it, in the form of a semicircle.
They were comfortably clothed, but without that
uniformity that would designate them as soldiers, at

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 55

the first glance. Some of them were pale and thin-
looking, as if they had just recovered from sickness.
Others, and the greater portion of them, were stout,
hearty-looking men, whose appearance denoted that
they had encountered many hardships, but could
yet brave much more fatigue and privation.

" Bill," said one of the party, to a pale, sickly-look-
ing individual, " we must keep the log rollin'. It 's
your turn next. Bob come first, and then it '11 come
around in this direction. Tell us about anything you
know, and think we do n't know."

" Yes," keep it movin'," said another. " You must
pour out somethin'."

" Keally," said Bill, " I do n't think I could amuse
you with anything I know."

" You were with the army on the Canada expedi-
tion ; were n't you ?" enquired the one who had first
spoken.

^^ Yes; but I suppose you've all heard about that,
long ago," returned Bill.

" I 've heard that there was an invasion of Canada,
and that Montgomery was killed there, and our troops
were forced to retreat," remarked another.

'' That's pretty near the extent of my knowledge,"
said another of the group. " I should like to hear an
account of it, ])y one who went through it all."

"Come, Bill, you'll have to tell us something; so
you might as well give us that as anything else," said

56 THE CAMP-FIRE

the one nearest the fire, on one side, who had been
called Bob. "It's our law, that every one in the
mess must either tell a story, or sing a song."

^' Well," replied Bill, " while I run over some of the
details in my mind, so as to bring them up fresh in
my memory, let John, here, next to me, sing a song."

" I kick against that arrangement," said John. " I
do n't pretend to sing ; besides, I do n't know anything
you 'd care about hearin'."

" You can sing," returned Bob ; " and you do know
somethin' that I, at least, care about hearin'. You
want a little coaxin', I guess. There 's that song I
heard you singin' the other night, about throwin' the
tea overboard in Boston harbor. That 's a good song."

" I can sing you that song very easy ; but I do n't
think it 's a good one," John replied. " It 's called
' The Destruction of the Tea,' and is sung to the tune
of ' Hosier's Ghost.' "

" Go on then," said Bob ; and John, with sundry
of the customary preliminaries, proceeded to sing the
ditty that follows : —

As near beauteous Boston lying

On the gently swelling flood,
Without jack or pendant flying,

Three ill-fated tea-ships rode;

Just as glorious Sol was setting.
On the wharf a numerous crew,

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 57

Sons of Freedom, fear forgetting,
Suddenly appeared in view.

Armed with hammer, axe, and chisels,

Weapons new for warlike deed,
Towards the herbage-freighted vessels

They approached with dreadful speed.

O'er their heads, in lofty mid-sky.

Three bright angel-forms were seen;
This was Hampden, that was Sidney,

With fair Liberty between.

" Soon," they cried, " your foes you ^11 banish*

Soon the triumph shall be won;
Scarce shall setting Phoebus vanish,

Ere the deathless deed be done/'

Quick as thought the ships were boarded.

Hatches burst and chests displayed;
Axes, hammers help afforded;

What a glorious crash they made !

Squash into the deep descended

Cursed weed of China's coast;
Thus at once our fears were ended !

British rights shall ne'er be lost.

Captains! once more hoist your streamers,
Spread your sails, and plough the wave !

Tell your masters they were dreamers
When tli(>y thought to cheat the brave.

58 THE CAMP-FIRE

" That 's a good song, and it ^as well sung," said
one of the men, called Jake, for shortness. " I like
to hear a song that 's got a chorus to it, a good deal
better than one that has n't, though."

" You like to help to roar it out, I suppose," re-
marked Bob.

" Not for that alone," said Jake. " There seems to
be a good deal more life about it."

" AYell," enquired Bob, ^/have you 'most got your
memory raked up, Bill ?" •

" Yes, I think I can go on with the story now," was
the reply.

" Then push ahead."

" Well," Bill began, " when I heard there was going
to be an invasion of Canada, I was at work on my
father's farm, up here near Schenectady. I heard
that they were raising troops for the invasion, both in
this State and Massachusetts ; and in spite of all my
father's objections, I would go. Accordingly, I joined
the troops under Arnold, then at Cambridge. You
see, the expedition under Arnold was going through
a route that had scarcely ever been explored, and that
promised something new. I preferred to go with that
detachment, because there would be more glory ac-
quired by accomplishing such a march as was ex-
pected ; besides, there were several other young men
of our neighborhood going with the same party. I
had then no thought of its being so full of hardship

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 59

as it proved to be. Well, we started from Cambridge
in the middle of September. We were to penetrate
into Canada, by ascending the Kennebec, and de-
scending the Chaudiere rivers, till we got to the St.
Lawrence. We were pretty well fitted out w^ith
clothing, ammunition, batteaux for ascending the
rivers, and many other things. It was n't certain how
long we would be on the route, and that was the
reason why we did n't take provision enough. The
commander of the expedition had scarcely any idea
of the obstacles w^e would have to overcome, and
did n't calculate to be more than half the time going
that we really was. Well, after sailing from New-
buryport in transports, for two days, we commenced
to ascend the Kennebec Eiver. The current was very
strong, and we had to work all the time against it.
We would often come across a f\ill in the river, and
then the whole party would have to get out of the
boats, and carry them on the land till we got above
the fall. I tell you, that one day's journey in this
way was almost as much as one would want to per-
form. When night would come on, we would get out
of the boats, and hauling them up on the shore, en-
camp in the woods for the night ; and hard as was
our beds, the day's work was so much harder, that we
were glad to get ashore and rest anywhere. Some of
the men, that had come from the town, and wore n't
used to such work, fell sick after two or three days'

60 THE CAMP-FIRE

travel ; and they, of course, added to the incum-
brances we had to bear. It was rather a bad time
and place for men to get sick. The comforts and at-
tendance sick people ought to have, were n't to be had
with us — and they knew it, too ; for they held out
till they almost dropped down with weakness. One
of my companions, that came from the same neigh-
borhood as I did, fell sick among the rest, and I paid
him all the attention I could, but that was n*t much.
He had a sort of a fever, brought on by exerting him-
self too much. Rest being the thing he wanted most,
he soon got better ; and although he could n't do any
work of any account, he ceased to be an incum-
brance."

" That is," said Bob, " you had n't the trouble of
carrying him like the baggage."

" Exactly," replied Bill. " Well, we continued on
in the rough way we began, for two days ; working
very hard all day, rowing; and dragging the boats up
places where the stream was too rapid for us to row
or push the boats while in them. Colonel Arnold
worked among the men, and pretty near as hard;
and so did Colonel Greene, and Major Bigelow, and
Major Meigs. Captain Daniel Morgan was at the
head of the riflemen. He is a brave man; and I
think if he 's only spared long enough, he '11 be some-
thing great."

" Whose regiment were you in ?" enquired John.

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 61

" Greene's regiment — Colonel Christopher Green,"
replied Bill. " You '11 hear of him one of these days,
I warrant you."

"You must have had a great many batteaux, to
take a thousand men up the river," remarked Bob.
" Had you them all prepared before you started on
the expedition T

"Yes," was the reply. "A company of carpenters
had been sent from Cambridge some days before we
left there. They had built two hundred batteaux for
the party, at a small place called Pittston, on the
Kennebec. They were all prepared w^ien we got
there. I did n't mention that circumstance, because
I thought you might have heard about it. Well, you
may judge of the toil we endured, burdened with our
arms, ammunition, provisions, and clothing. When
we carried the batteaux around a cataract or a rapid,
we had all the baggage to carry with them. That
was work such as I don't want to try again. We
passed up the river in this way slowly. A recon-
noitring party of six or seven men had been sent
ahead, under the command of Lieutenant Steel, with
orders to go as far as Lake Megantic, or Chaudiere
Pond, as tlie French called it, and procure such intel-
ligence as they could from the Indians, who were said
to be in the neighborhood, on a hunting excursion ;
and another party of seven men, with a surveyor and
a guide, under the command of Lieutenant Church,
6

62 THE CAMP-FIRE

to take the exact courses and distances of a stream
called the Dead Kiver. I forgot to tell you the order
in which we journeyed. Morgan went ahead with
his riflemen ; then came our party, under Greene and
Bigelow, consisting of three companies of musketeers ;
next came Meigs, with four companies ; and last came
Colonel Enos, w^ith the three remaining companies.
On the third day of our progress, we came in sight
of Norridgewock Falls. A short distance below these
falls, on the eastern bank of the river, was a wide
and beautiful plain, where, we w^ere told, an Indian
village had stood, belonging to the tribe that the falls
was named after — the Norridgewocks. They had
once been a powerful tribe, and a French priest had
come to civilize them, and lived there in that village
among them for twenty-six years. The village had
been attacked suddenly by the colonial forces sent
against the Norridgewocks, and the priest and eighty
Indians killed. The foundations of a church, and the
ruins of an altar, were to be seen on the plain, and
they looked rather strange in that neighborhood. At
the Norridgewock Falls was a portage, where all the
batteaux had to be taken out of the river, and carried
a mile and a quarter by land. Then came the hardest
work. The banks on each side were uneven and
rocky, and that made our progress slower still. We
found, to mend the matter, that much of the provi-
sions, particularly the bread, was damaged. The

ATMOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 63

boats had been badly made, and were leaky. The
men not knowing how to navigate them, was the
cause of a good many accidents in ascending the
rapids. The carpenters we had with us were set to
work to repair the worst of the boats, and that kept
us back some days. The two first divisions of the
army, — that is, Morgan's and ours, — started two days
before the rest. I think it was seven days, before the
whole army was in motion again. Colonel Arnold
rode in a birch canoe, with an Indian for a guide, and
was the last one to embark, as one of the men that
was in the rear told me. However, we had scarcely
arrived at the Great Carrying-Place, about twelve
miles below the mouth of the Dead Ptiver, before he
overtook us. He must have travelled very fast. We
had got along thus far tolerable well, considering
everything. We were very tired. We had only lost
one man by death, but some were sick, and a few had
deserted, after tasting of the dangers we had to meet,
and the work we had to perform. I did n't like it
much; but there was no back-out in me. When I
undertake to go anywhere, and do anything, I go
through with it. So I resolved to brave it out, no
matter what we might have to do. We mustered
about nine hundred and fifty effective men, when we
reached the Great Carry ing-PLace. We had passed
four portages, or places where the boat^^ had to be
taken out of the water and carried a short distance

64 THE CAMP-FIRE

on land. Colonel Arnold reported that lie had twenty-
five days' provisions for the whole detachment; and
said he was pretty certain he could reach the Chau-
diere Eiver in eight or ten days."

"I suppose this Great Carrying-Place was where
you left the Kennebec and travelled overland. "Was n't
it Tasked Bob.

" Yes ; there we were to leave the Kennebec, and
transport all the batteaux, provisions, and baggage,
on our shoulders, till we got to Dead Kiver. The
distance was about fifteen miles, and there was three
small ponds to cross."

" Phew !" exclaimed Bob. " What a job !"

" Yes, you may well ' phew,' Bob," said the narrator.
" You would have blowed a great deal more, if it had
been your lot to have been with us. We took the
boats out of the water, with all their contents, and
shouldered them. The road we marched along was a
sort of hilly and rough, for the whole three miles that
we had to travel till we reached the first pond. I tell
you, it made the sweat run, although the weather
was beginning to get chilly. However, we got over
it at last, and took a short rest while the boats were
launched. I forgot to tell you, that we left a small
party of carpenters near the banks of the Kennebec,
to build a block-house for depositing provisions in;
— some had been ordered up from Norridgewock, and
they were intended as a supply, in case a retreat

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 65

should be necessary. Well, we crossed the pond, and
marched on, carrying our boats and their contents,
over rocks, and through creeks, and morasses, and
deejD ravines, till we reached Dead River. There is
no use of telling you all that we endured in the
march ; in fact, I could n't. When we reached Dead
River, we were completely worn out, and I laid at
length on the ground to rest, as most of the men did.
At the second portage of the Great Carrying-Place, a
block-house was built, where the sick were left.
Some of the men had caught a great quantity of trout
in the ponds we had crossed, and these made a splen-
did feast for us. We had some oxen with us, which
had been brought along to help carry some of the
baggage, but were of very little use. Two of them
were ordered to be killed, and the meat divided
among the men. That was another delicious feast.
Our hard work had earned it, though. We didn't
stop there long. We thought we would have an easy
time in moving along the smooth stream which was
called the Dead River. It had a gentle current, with
here and there a fall of short descent, at which were
carrying-places. We moved quietly and slowly along,
resting from our previous toil, when suddenly a lofty
mountain appeared in the distance; the summit
whitened with snow. As we neared it, the river was
observed to pursue a winding course near its base.
There we stopped and encamped, near the base of the
G=*= E

66 THE CAMP-FIRE

mountain^ for two or three days. Then we had a
good rest. Morgan s riflemen went forward ; while
the third and fourth divisions had not yet arrived.
Here it was that Colonel Arnold hoisted the American
flag over his tent. Major Bigelow, who commanded
a part of our division, took a small party and ascended
the mountain, with the hope of seeing the hills of
Canada^ or the spires of Quebec ; but he was disap-
pointed, I believe. From this encampment, a party
of ninety men was sent back to the rear for provi-
sions, which were beginning to grow scarce, and then
we moved on after Morgan. We had just got started
again, when it commenced to rain ; and it continued
to rain for three days. Every man, and all the bag-
gage, was drenched with water. It must be remem-
bered that the water was very chilly at that time of
the year, and so far north."

" I should think it was," remarked John. " It was
in October ; was n't it ?"

"Yes," replied Bill. "One night, after we had
landed at a pretty late hour, and had just got fixed to
take a little sleep, we w^ere roused by a freshet. The
water came rushing upon us in a torrent, and hardly
allowed us time to get away, before the ground on
which we had lain down was overflowed j and the
water kept on rising. In nine hours, the river rose
eight feet. Everything seemed to operate against us.
The current became very rapid. The stream had

AT MOUNT INDETENDEXCE. 67

spread itself over the low grounds, by its tremendous
increase, and that exposed our boats to being all the
time tangled in the drift-wood and bushes. Some-
times we would get out of the main stream, into the
smaller branches, in mistake, and then we would have
to retrace our course ; and then again, we came across
so many portages, that we got along very slow. At
length a disaster happened that came near upsetting
the whole expedition. The water was tumbling, and
boiling, and rushing with such force, that seven of
our boats were thrown over, and all their contents
lost. This, of course, made such a breach in the
quantity of our provisions, that the men began to get
disheartened. It was ascertained that we were thirty
miles from the head of the Chaudiere River. The
provisions we had left would serve for twelve or
fifteen days. Arnold called a council of war of all
the officers that had come uip so far, and they decided
that the sick and the feeble should be sent back, and
the others press forward. Accordingly, Arnold wrote
to Colonel Enos, who was in the rear, and ordered
him to select such a number of his strongest men as
he could supply with fifteen days' provisions, and to
come on with them, leaving the others to return to
Norridgewock. We learned afterwards that Enos had
retreated with his whole division, consisting of three
companies. Why he done it, I can't say, unless be
misunderstood the order of Colonel Arnold."

68 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Did he return to Norridgewock with his men ?''
enquired Bob.

"To Norridgewock! He retreated all the way
back to Cambridge. It's my private opinion that he
did n't want to understand the order. I heard he was
tried by a court-martial, soon after his return ; but
not having the true state of the case from Arnold, at
the time of the trial, he was acquitted on the ground
of a want of provisions. After the order was de-
spatched to Colonel Enos, Arnold chose sixty men,
the command being given to Colonel Hanchet; in-
tending to proceed as soon as possible to the inhabit-
ants on the Chaudiere, and send back provisions to
the main forces. The rain changed into snow — the
first we had met with. All our former sufferings
were as nothing, compared with what we began to
endure then. Cold and hunger attacked us at the
same time. Ice formed on the water through which
we were obliged to drag our boats. Finally, we
reached the highlands that separate the eastern
waters from those of the St. Lawrence. How we
done it, I can't give you an idea. Near the sources
of the Dead Kiver, we had to pass through a string
of small lakes, choked with logs and other things.
We had met with seventeen falls in the whole dis-
tance of the Dead Eiver, around which were portages,
and had lost a number of our boats. The carrying-
place over the highlands was a little more than four

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 69

miles ; but as small as the distance was, the men of
our division were so worn-out with their toil, that
they found it a terrible piece of work. We reached
a small stream, at last, that led us by a very crooked
course into Lake Megantic, which is the source of the
Chaudiere Kiver."

'^ How many was in your party, then ?" enquired
Bob.

" I do n't know exactly how many there was," an-
swered Bill. '^ We had three companies in our divi-
sion. Morgan's riflemen were just ahead of us, and
Meigs' four companies a short distance behind. Ar-
nold's party of sixty men had gone far ahead of us.
You must recollect that the whole party were on
short allowance of provisions all the time since we
left the encampment. Lake Megantic is thirteen
miles long and about four broad, and is surrounded by
high mountains. I think it was the night after we
got into it, we encamped on the eastern bank, where
there was a large Indian wigwam. I was one of the
lucky ones that got under its cover, and I had a tole-
rable night's rest — a rare thing since I left home.
The next morning we went on ; a portion by land, on
account of the loss of their boats. Well, our provi-
sions were getting less and less every day, and the
men getting weaker. When we reached the Chau-
diere River, we had still about a hundred miles to
travel before there was any provisions to be obtained.

70 THE CAMP-FIRE

There we shared the last of our stock, and it only
gave four pints of flour to a man. Most of the boats
we had left were leaky, and did n't promise to hold
out much longer. It wasn't intended that they
should ; for we had no sooner entered the Chaudiere
River, than we encountered the greatest kind of dan-
gers. The bottom was rocky, and falls and rapids
were plenty. We had just reached a rapid, where
we discovered the wreck of some boats that had been
dashed to pieces, it appeared, by the violence of the
rushing of the water over the rocks, and were won-
dering what had become of the advance-party, when,
from bad management, or some other cause, most of
our boats were upset, and met the same fate as the
ones we had seen. The men that were in them, we
rescued with a great deal of trouble ; but most of the
baggage was carried away by the rapid w^ater. Then
we all had to take to the toils of the land. Through
woods so thick with underwood that we had to cut
our way, sometimes for five miles at a time ; through
swamps, where we sank into the mud almost up to
the w^aist ; over rocks and crags that cut our feet, we
toiled for the rest of the distance we had to travel.
Morgan, and Greene, and Meigs, and Bigelow, worked
as hard as the rest of the men, and kept cheering us
on all the time, by telling us about the glory we
would acquire by our march through the wilderness ;
and showing us that we could n't be very far from a

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. 71

settlement. I do n't know what the rest thought but
I had an idea that if glory was to be purchased at
such a rate as that, it might stay in the market alto-
gether, for what I cared. AYell, we made slow pro-
gress, and at length our provisions gave out entirely.
Then we suffered awfully. I had a pair of moose-skin
moccasins, that I got from an Indian that was with
the party; and — it's a fact, I did do it — I actually
boiled them, to see if I could get any nourishment
from them ! Some of the men done the same with
their cartridge-boxes. All the dogs that were with
the army were killed; and that reminds me of a
little incident. I had a friend among the company I
was with, by the name of Joe Harwood. You might
have heard of Joe. He was a tall, slim fellow —
at least he was slim then. He had light hair and
blue eyes."

The listeners all professed an ignorance of an indi-
vidual of that name, though each one knew a tall,
slim fellow, with light hair and blue eyes.

" Well," continued Bill, '' he was as clever a fellow
as I ever knew. Joe had a fine spaniel dog, that had
been with him during the whole journey. The dog
was attached to him, and Joe thought a good deal of
it. When he would lay down of a night to sleep in
the woods, that dog would keep watch over him till
he awoke. He was always at his side ; and when the
boats had been dashed to pieces on the rocks in the

72 THE CAMP-FIRE

Chaudiere Eiver, he done more than any of the men,
to get Joe out of the water. "Well, Joe was almost
starving. All the dogs that had been brought with
us had been killed but Jock ; that was the name he
called the dog. Joe could n't think of killing Jock.
It seemed almost like stabbing himself; but he had
nothing to eat. The dog might die, perhaps, and he
might die, too. I told him that he had better kill the
dog, or it would starve to death. At last, when Joe
had got so weak that he could n't stand it any longer,
he determined to shoot Jock. He tied him to a tree ;
the dog playing with him, as if he was going to have
some sport. Then Joe went about ten yards from the
tree, and raised his gun to shoot; but just then the
dog looked at him in such a way, that Joe dropped
his gun, and told me that I would have to do it — he
could n't. He went up to the dog, and patted him on
the head. I took the gun, and as Joe turned away
from Jock, and the dog was looking at him, I shot
him through the head, and he dropped dead without
a struggle. Joe walked away, with the tears trickling
down his hollow cheek, as if he had lost a child."

" It 's a desperate hard thing to treat a dog in that
way, after you 've got to likin' him," said one of the
men. " I know from tryin' it."

" Well, I suppose you eat the dog ; did n't you ?"
enquired Bob. " If you saved your own lives, the
dog's was of little account."

AT MOUNT INDEPENDEXCE. 73

" Yes, we did eat the dog ; and that is what Joe
and I lived on for the rest of the march. We had
got split up into small parties in going through the
woods. The one I was with was the farthest one
ahead. I think it was in the afternoon of a very cold
day, we were working our way slowly through the
woods near the river, when we came in sight of a
party of Canadians and Indians, who were resting
themselves in an open space in the woods. We
pressed on joyfully to them, and they turned out to
be a party that Arnold had sent back to us with flour
and some cattle. You never saw such an overjoyed
set of men in your life as ours were. They were so
glad to get something to eat, that they hugged each
other. One by one the parties came up, and received
some provisions; and then, having refreshed ourselves,
we pushed on with vigor. As much as we rejoiced
at our relief, we rejoiced still more when we caught
sitrht of houses where human bein2:s lived. We came
out of the woods in small parties at a time, and the
inhabitants received us well. At first they were
struck with astonishment to see men who had per-
formed such a march through a wilderness where a
wliite man's foot had scarcely trod. They reported
strange stories about us. Some said that we were
cased in iron, and that we had great power of body.
Others, that there was about twice as many of us ius
there really wa.s. They all treated us kindly. Some
7

74 THE CAMP-FIRE

of the men had worn-out their clothes to rags ; and
these the Canadians clothed. The sick they attended
with great care. In fact, we couldn't have received
better treatment if we had been at home."

" How long did the march through the wilderness
require ?" asked Bob.

'' We left Newburyport, in the transports, on the
18th of September, and arrived at the first Canadian
settlement on the 4th of November. Arnold had
arrived on the 30th of October," replied Bill, after a
short pause.

" Had you lost many of the party, besides Enos's
division ?" enquired John.

^^ I do n't know what the return was just after we
finished our march ; but I know that, a short time
afterwards, six hundred and seventy-five men was all
we could muster."

"That was a large decrease," said Bob. "You
started from Cambridge with an army of more than
a thousand men, I understood."

" Yes ; but Enos is responsible for about half of
the missing ones. The rest either died from fatigue
and exposure, or deserted in the early part of our
march," was the reply.

"Well, it must be getting late," remarked Bob.
"We'll hear more about this invasion some other
time ; won't we, Bill ?"

" Yes, when some of the rest of you do your share

AT MOUNT INDEPENDENCE. ' 75

of the talking," replied Bill ; " I 'm so tired that I
shall have to stop."

" We won't talk any more to-night, anyhow," said
John. " I'm going to try to sleep to-night. We 've
been in continual alarm for the last two or three
weeks ; and now we can rest quietly."

" I 'm with you," was the reply ; and, one after an-
other, the men sought their beds of straw. A blanket
was the covering, and a knapsack the pillow, for each.
The fire blazed cheerfully on the hearth, shedding its
comforting influence upon the scene ; and it did not
require many moments to close the eyelids of the
men, and " steep their senses in forgetfulness."

Washington's Head-Quarters at Gowanas, Long Island.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT LONG ISLAND.

Night had settled around the plains and the rugged
hills of Long Island. It was the evening which pre-
ceded the disastrous battle of August 27th, 1776 ;
and both armies, having lighted their fires, seemed to
be holding their iTreath in anticipation of the morrow.
The hills were dotted with watch-fires ; and many an
eye, which had flashed wildly when the tocsin of
liberty pealed first at Concord, or when in fierce strife
it met that of an enemy, looked sadly on the flames,
as they slowly curled upward. Scarce a whisper
disturbed the quiet of that calm and beautiful summer
night.

Suddenly, a soldier issued from a pass between
some hills, and advanced toward one of the tents.
He was a young man, dressed as an ordinary soldier,
and carrying a musket over his shoulder.

" Stand !" exclaimed a sentinel The young man
stopped and gave a pass-word.

" Your passport," demanded the inexorable watcher.

"And why a passport ?" the young soldier enquired.
4 (76)

THE SENTINEL.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT LOXG ISLAND. //

*^ I 've given you the word by which I passed all the
sentinels behind me."

'^ I have just received the old man's orders, and the
other sentinels will receive them also. Israel must
be obeyed."

The soldier stood for a moment, as though lost in
astonishment. Then striking his forehead with one
hand, he exclaimed with energy, —
" I must see General Putnam 1"
The sentinel lowered his gun.

" I must — I must see the general. I have inform-
ation of the first importance to our cause, and which
no one can deliver but myself.— Is there no exception
to your orders ?" • ' -

"None," was the reply; "not for the old man him-
self, if he should come along. So, sir, you are my
prisoner."

"Take me prisoner — but take me to the general."
"You must go to quarters; he cannot be seen,"
was the reply.

A strange variety of emotions were visible on the
soldier's countenance, as he grounded his musket, to
save his life. But scarcely had the sentinel advanced
to seize him, when a horseman rode through the pass
as fast as his jaded horse could gallop.

" Is private Smith here ?" he demanded, on reach-
ing the sentinel.

"' I am he," replied the young nuin, turnmg round,

7:i:

78 THE CAMP-FIRE

and facing the officer. He was immediately recog-
nized.

" Here is a passport^ to carry you to General Put-
nam. It should have been given you before — lose
no time."

The young soldier bowed and passed on. He
reached the general's tent, and delivered to him, —
partly in writing, partly in words, — a message from
General Greene.

" That pass !" exclai-med Putnam, springing from
his seat. " ! that.Gre.eiae. wiJiS here to direct us !"

Orders were immediately issued to examine the
Jamaica road ; and all who could be spared from other
points were directed to be stationed there. But the
order was too late. The officers were mostly unac-
quainted with the ground ; and, amid the perplexities
of a night march over an unknown territory, so much
time was lost, that even on the following morning the
pass had not been guarded.

For a short time after delivering his message,
young Smith had remained in the general's tent. The
road by which he came was both difficult and dan-
gerous; and he gladly accepted Putnam's offer, to
remain in that part of the camp. Within the tent
near which he had been stopped by the sentinel, he
had observed two or three faces which seemed familiar
to him ; and he requested and obtained permission to
quarter there during the night.

GENERAL GREENE.

AT LONG ISLAND. 79

A scene of hearty joy ensued on his arrival there.
Two of the men within the tent, had passed with him
through many of the trying scenes in Boston, which
preceded the battle of Lexington. Their names were
Wilson and Hanna. They had joined the provincial
army soon after that event ; but their young friend
Smith, unable to leave Boston without being suspected
and seized, remained there during the siege. Another
soldier, named RoUin, had seen Smith on that joyous
occasion, when the army of Washington, having
driven Lord Howe from the city, marched triumph-
antly into it. Two others within the tent he did not
know.

" Smith !" exclaimed the three friends, springing to
their feet, and grasping his hand.

"Let me sit down, lads," were his first words.
" I 've been travelling all this hot day, since before
sunrise, and feel as if I had lost twenty pounds of
fiesh."

"But where have you been so long?" enquired
Hanna. " Why, we used to see you every day."

" I have been with General Greene," was the an-
swer.

"And will he lead us, in the coming battle?"

" No, he will not. He 's down with a fever, and
can't lift hand or foot. We '11 miss him, boys, dciDcnd
upon it, when the fighting comes to be done."

" I 'm not afraid, when Israel 's about," said Wilson.

80 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Nor I, either/' added a companion.

" It 's no difference who commands," Smith replied.
" if he don't know what the ground 's like that he 'g
fighting on. His excellency himself could n't gain a
battle, unless he knew something of the kind before-
hand. And let me tell you, lads, General Greene
is the only man that has the proper knowledge of
it."

"Well, I'm tired of this war," remarked a man
named Pierce. " I wish Lord North and the other
lords had gone to smash before they passed the stamp
act. Here we 've been quarrelling six or seven years,
and at last got to blows, without the least good to
either party. Why can't they let us have our homes,
and our little property, in peace, instead of murdering
and destroying all before them ?"

" We do n't want peace !" exclaimed Kollin, sharply.
" Peace ! who 'd be a subject of King George again,
and call him, ' gracious majesty,' and ' kind majesty/
and ' most serene highness,' when we know he 'd cut
the throat of every mother's son among us, if he only
had the chance, and the knives. I go by the decla-
ration of our Congress — and may God help them to
keep it ! They know more than I do of these things ;
for some of them have read all kinds of history, be-
sides other books ; and this makes them know how to
talk in the right style. Did n't they say all people
are free when they are born, and that one 's as good

AT LONG ISLAND. 81

as another? I do n't recollect the words exactly, but
that's something like it."

''That's it!" exclaimed Hanna. '^And they said
also that George III. is a tyrant; which I believe
with all my heart."

" Who cares for his property," resumed Eollin, " if
we can get our freedom ? That 's what we 're fiditino-
for now, and we must fight it out. Any man that
don't come up to the scratch, oughtn't to be free.
And, let me tell you, there are boys in this camp that
never will be under a king again, unless it be his ex-
cellency. They'll live among the Indians first —
yes, they'd rather stand still and be chopped to

pieces. What good did ever King George do us ?

that's what I want to know. He got our money, and
made us fight the French, and left his armies here to
be fed, and made us pay for his quarrels, and then
called us ' rebels !' And all the time, we, like poor
fools, as we were, kept saying, 'gracious majesty,
gracious majesty, ! how gracious !' But, boys, even
kittens get their eyes open at last ; and all honor to

the wise men in Congress, we 've got ours opened I

go for the Declaration !"

" So do I !" exclaimed Smith. " Stick to it, lads,
forever ! I wish we had had a Declaration when the
red-coats left Boston. That was the time to give it
to them; but you see our hands were tied, because
we were subjects, and so they slipped away."

F

82 THE CAMP-FIRE

"Were you in Boston all the time the siege
lasted ?" asked Wilson.

" Yes ; and many a hard scene the people passed
through. We didn't care so much for ourselves, as
for the women and little children. Some of them
suffered enough last winter 5 for many families had
been robbed of their money and other articles, after
the battle of Bunker Hill."

" Let 's hear something about it," said Hanna.
" I can't tell you more about the battle than you
know yourselves," replied the young soldier. "It
was a busy day, however, in Boston, and the whole
town looked like a beehive. I got on old Neddy In-
gle's roof; but I could see nothing but the hill where
the fort was, on account of the crowds that covered
the houses before me, and on all sides. They clung
to each other in bunches; and every wdndow w^as
filled with heads. At last, I climbed to the top of- a
chimney. The red-coats were just marching up the
hill ; and then, boys, you ought to have seen the pale
faces around me, and how the poor women clasped
their hands, and looked up to Heaven, with trembling
lips, and sometimes with short prayers. There were
some handsome young girls among them, too ; but I
hadn't time to look at them, only now and then.
Every eye was on the red-coats ; and when they got
quite near, so that they seemed only two or three
steps off, I began to think all was over. Ah, boys, it

AT LONG ISLAND.

would have looked bad to give up the fort without
fighting, after all that had been done at Lexington."

" But they did n't, though," interrupted a voice.

" No, indeed," resumed Smith; "but a good many
thought so, besides myself You remember Passy,
Joe?"

'' The old, cross, ugly man, with a flat, round nose,
who swears so ?" enquired Hanna.

" Yes, he. He 's a bad sort of a man, but a firm
patriot. When he saw, as he thought, that the
Americans were afraid to fight, he broke out all at
once with such a mouthful of curses, as frightened
everybody. Some tried to stop him; but he swore
worse at them, and nearly pushed Mrs. Johnson's
Sally off the roof If she had fallen, half a dozen, at
least, would have gone with her. She began to cry ;
and as all hearts were full, we soon had tears enough.
The girls wrung their hands, and some of the men
hid their faces, saying that all was over. But just as
I was hallooing to Passy, to ask him if he wasn't
ashamed of himself, the little fort broke out in the
right way. Every one was on tiptoe. ' The battle 's
begun!' shouted the men, in all directions. Sure
enough, it had begun. The red-coats poured out
their fire, covering themselves in clouds of smoke,
and hiding our fort; and at the same moment, all the
ships in the harbor vomited out fire and death, till
the houses in town seemed to be shaking to pieces.

84 THE CAMP-FIRE

You may guess how anxiously we looked till the
smoke should clear away; for nobody doubted that
the fort would be knocked off the hill like a football.
In a few minutes we saw the legs, and then the
bodies of the red-coats, pushing out of the smoke, and
running down the hill as if they 'd break their necks.
^What's the matter with my eyes, children?' ex-
claimed Deacon Wadloe ; for he did n't dream, nor
anybody else, that the British were really flying.
But he had hardly cleaned his spectacles, and put
them on again, when the smoke was blown away, and
we saw what the matter was. Then there were more
tears ; but they were tears of joy. Then the girls
hugged each other, and the men stamped, and the old
women clapped their hands, till I expected they would
tumble headforemost into the street. At first we
did n't hurrah, for fear of the officers ; but Sammy
Cropp grabbed his son Bill by the shoulder, and
shouted, ^Hurrah, my boy — hurrah for America, if
you 're shot for it !" Bill roared out like a thunder-
clap ; and the way that all on the roof joined him,
was a lesson to tories.

^^ Pretty soon, up comes three officers, through the
trap-door. They wanted to know what the rebel
noise meant. Charley Cannon made answer, that he
hadn't heard any rebel noise, nor any loyal one
either. The nearest officer swore an oath that made
even Passy shudder, and drew his sword to run

AT LONG ISLAND. 85

Cannon through ; but he couldn't get at him, for the
crowd of women. One or two begged Charley to be
quiet; but he swore that if they'd clear the roof,
he'd fight all three with his fists. The officers or-
dered him to surrender ; but as he knew very well
what would be done with him if he complied, he only
folded his arms and looked at the officers. ' Never
surrender, Charley/ two or three whispered. '1
do n't intend to/ was his answer. ' Look here, Mr.
Officer : you 're dressed in a nice clean suit, and got a
very fine long sword of your own; but I'll just tell
you, on the part of Charley Cannon, you can't do
everything. I don't like to brag; but I'll just say
of myself, I'm no rebel. And I'll just say again,
that you can't frighten me with your sword, if it ain't
rusty. And, p'raps, I may as well add, that if either
of you lays a finger on me, he '11 go over this banister
into the street, quicker than they are flying over
there, down Breed's Hill !' "

" Good !" ejaculated Hanna. " That was the right
way to make speeches."

" It was, indeed. And the way the men crowded
round to help him, was the right way, too. For you
see, boys, wc thought that if our friends could whip
an army on a hill, we might easily whip three officers
on the roof of a house. But just then three more
officers came up ; and there would have been serious
work, if an order had n't soon after arrived, for them
8

86 THE C A IMP-FIRE

to repair with all haste to their commands. Then
we gave three cheers for Charley Cannon ; but as his
foe had now fled, we thought it best that he should
go off the roof, lest the red-coats would tell, and have
him arrested. He would n't go, though ; and, pretty
soon afterwards, orders came from one of the British
generals, to clear the roof j so we had to get down
without seeing the end of the battle. We listened,
between hope and fear, to the firing, when it began
again; and a good many ran through the town, in
spite of the soldiers, and hid themselves near the
harbor, where they could see all. You know, boys,
how the battle ended; so I needn't say anything
further about that. In the afternoon, the wounded
were brought over in boats ; and a long string of
wagons and carriages took them up to head-quarters.
Jake White and I were peeping from behind a pile of
logs in the old board-yard, trying to count them as
they passed. But there seemed to be no end ; and so
at last we stopped. Jake was so pleased, that I could
scarcely keep him from screaming out ; but it seemed
to me a hard thing to see so many men, who were
well enough in the morning, hacked and bruised ; —
some with their arms or legs off, some shot in thi
head, others just dying. I was n't used to such sights
then, and that one made me feel very uneasy for a
good many days.

"After the battle, the British officers treated ua

AT LONG ISLAND. 87

worse than ever, and would n't allow our men to go
out of the city without being examined. Every day,
they searched the houses for arms. If any were
found in a house, they had the family examined be-
fore a board appointed by Gage ; and if none was
found, they abused the people, and called them
^rebels.' At night, they patrolled the streets; and
when they caught any poor fellow out, locked him up
in the barracks. Once or twice. Doctor Griffin was
taken ; but the general let him go, when he told who
he was."

" How could you live in such a place ?" enquired

one of the soldiers.

" It was hard living enough," Smith replied ) " but

let me tell you, boys, it was still harder work to get

out of the town. Besides the red-coats, there were

more tories than a few, watching us ; and they had

eyes behind as well as before. The scoundrels knew

that we 'd have no mercy on them, if once they were

in our hands ; so they worked mischief on us, day

and night. And, to be more particular, lads, for I 'm

not ashamed of it, I had determined never to leave

Boston while Caddy Lowell was there. I won't say

much about her now, boys, — she used to talk to me

of Heaven, and call it her home ; and sometimes she

wished to be an angel, so that I could only be with

her. I didn't care much about such things then,

thou'di I believed tliem all, and liked to listen, be-

88 THE CAMP-FIRE

cause it was Caddy that spoke. But I Ve thought a
good deal about them since, though I am a soldier ;
and I believe she 's happier to-night, than if she had
lived to see the evil that 's come on her country. She
was a sweet girl, lads," continued the young man, as
his voice sank to a whisper, and he seemed to be
musing on some pleasant vision of the past.

"And why didn't you try to escape, and take her
along with you ?" enquired Wilson.

" So I did," he answered ; " but I was pursued and
arrested. Heaven will yet blast the cursed red-coats
for it. I believe I would have escaped in spite of
them, if it had n't been for that sneaking old Quaker,
Jacob Browne."

" I knew him," remarked Hanna. " He 's a bad
man."

" He 's a villain !" rejoined Smith. " He wanted
to get Caddy for his son Ben, because he knew her
uncle had property, which would be hers at his death.
But she sent the young, long-f\iced, tory hypocrite,
about his business ; and, from that day forward, he
and his revengeful father kept their eyes on me. One
day, Caddy heard them talking together about me;
and says the old fellow to the young rogue, ^Thee
knows, Benjamin, there are more days to pay the
debt thou owest him, than the day of judgment.'
When she told me, in the evening, my blood boiled
right up ; but she made me be quiet, and sit down by

AT LONG ISLAND. 89

her ; and then we agreed to attempt an escape. Poor
girl ! it was me she cared about most. Sometimes I
think it would have been better if she had stayed."

" But let 's hear about it," said Hanna.

" Well, you see, lads, that was on a Friday. The
weather was pretty cool, for the sun had crossed the
line about a week before ; and if we put the matter
off much longer, winter would be upon us. So I told
Caddy I 'd be at her house on the next Tuesday after-
noon, and we could walk to Peter Gamble's house,
and stay till about ten o'clock, when we 'd start away,
pretending to go home, but really for the purpose of
pushing over the Neck, toward Roxbury. There was
an old widow lady living in the frame-house just out-
side the Neck ; and with her I thought we might hide
till we could pursue our journey without danger. It
was a desperate chance, and neither of us thought of
much else till Tuesday came. At two o'clock I was
at Caddy's. She had hid all her jewels, and some
other little notions that her parents gave her before
they died, about her person, in such a manner that
they could n't be found. She was as merry as a bee,
and told me that Ave were going out of the land of
bondage, as Moses, I think she said, did with liis
family. As for myself, I felt a little solemn, though
I tried to laugh, and keep down the thoughts that
would come up. We went through the garden gate,
and round the little white fence, where the rose-bushes

90 THE CAMP-FIRE

used to grow, so that Browne would n't see us. But
we had n't gone a rod, before he came sneaking into
the Lane by a by-path, right opposite to us ; and no
sooner had he set his eye on Caddy, than he pushed
up his green spec's, kind of made a halt, and looked
right at her. We pretended not to mind him ; but
we could see his head beginning to jerk sideways, as
it does when he 's in trouble. Says Caddy, when we
got a little further down, ' That sight will do us no
good.' I told her it would n't ; and soon afterwards
we struck into another street. We reached Gamble's
house without being seen by the soldiers. After we
had eaten supper, says I, ' Pete, how late can a fellow
travel with his girl, down here, without being nabbed
by the red-coats ?' ' Till sundown,' says he ; and to-
night you had better be exact in the time, for a whole
company are going to reconnoitre, near the Neck,
about nine o'clock to-night.' This made me feel
pretty blue ; and turning to Caddy, I told her we
must be going. Peter w^anted us to stay all night, for
he wasn't in the secret; but, says I, ^ We can't.' It was
near sundown then ; and as soon as we had turned
the next corner above, we turned back again behind
Pete's house, and then pushed for Mrs. Hoover's.
We got along pretty smoothly for awhile, till it began
to grow black, and we heard thunder in the distance.
Then says I, ^ Caddy, shall we go back?' but she
would n't listen to it. We ran as fast as we could ;

AT LOXG ISLxVND. 91

and I knew we could n't be very far from the frame-
house, but could n't see a thing before me. By and
by, my foot struck the root of a tree, and down I
went. Caddy did n't cry, as other girls would have
done ; for she could stand a great deal more than some
men can, though she was so quiet and gentle. I was
up in no time ; but on feeling round me, I found we
had lost the road. It was now time to stop ; for if
we ran on, we might plunge into the bay. When the
lightning began to flash, we saw some tall trees before
us, and a sort of ditch, that seemed to me, as well as
I could guess, to have been ploughed up by a cannon-
ball. That sight made me feel queer; and says I,
' Dear Caddy, I wish I had n't brought you here.'
She asked me if I was afraid ; and that made me
ashamed of myself. I resolved, therefore, to take the
worst. By and by, the rain came down like rivers ;
there we were, clinging to each other, drenched
through, and afraid to stir one way or another. I
threw my coat over Caddy, knowing she was cold ;
and she leaned lier liead on my shoulder, without
speaking a word, till the first storm-clouds had blown
over."

^^And did you leave her there?" asked one of the
men.

"Leave her!" ejaculated Smith. "What do you
mean ?"

" I merely asked," was the reply.

92 THE CAMP-FIRE

" I did n t leave her/' said Smith, solemnly, " No
man that has a heart, could leave so gentle a girl, in
such a storm, for a minute."

"But how did you get off?"

"I was just going to tell you. After the first
shower, it grew a little lighter ; so that we picked our
steps pretty well, till we came to a fence which looked
as if it had just been set up. Thinks I, ' If we follow
this, it may lead us to the road;' and so I walked
along, feeling the rails with one hand, and leading
Caddy with the other. But her thin shoes stuck so
in the mud, that I had to lift her at every three or
four steps ; and, at last, I fairly carried her. But no
sooner had we reached the end of the fence, than I
saw the old tall poplar-tree, where the schoolboys
used to shoot squirrels, on Saturday afternoons ; and
I knew right away that the road was near. Caddy's
ear was quicker than mine. She heard horses' foot-
steps in the road, and told me to stand close to her ;
because, if we were seen, I would not be fired at, for
fear of shooting her. After listening a little while,
we heard wheels ; and then some one singing a psalm.
Says I, ' That 's no soldier.' When he got nearer, it
seemed as though I knew his voice ; for it sounded
like Jeremiah Longacre's, who came to town on busi-
ness every week, and went back again under a permit
from Gage. Sure enough, it was he. I called him
by name, and he stopped. When he saw what a con-

AT LONG ISLAND. 93

dition we were in, he held up both hands in astonish-
ment, telling us he never heard of such rashness.
There was n't room for us both in his little wagon ;
so, after wrapping up Caddy pretty warm, I put on
my coat, and got on the horse. I thought we were
safe at last 3 but the red-coats were on the track ; and,
before long, we heard them coming down the road at
full gallop. I wanted to set the horse a-going with
all his might ; but Mr. Longacre told me it was of no
use. We kept, therefore, on the old trot ; and the
British were soon up with us. The officers knew the
wagon, and I believe would have passed on, if I
had n't been sitting on the horse. Seeing me, they
turned short round, and ordered a halt. Mr. Long-
acre showed his permit; but it wouldn't do. They
knew that he had gone from town alone, and de-
manded how I came there. He told them he had
found me lost on the road ; and, after a good deal of
parleying, one of the horsemen ordered me to get be-
hind him, on his horse ; saying that I must be taken
before Gage, and go through an examination.

"All this time, Caddy hadn't spoken a word, nor
had they seen her. But when she found that I was
to be taken back, she began to wring her hands, and
beg the men to let me go. Then I gave up all for
lost ; for I trembled at the thought of these British
soldiers finding her in that place. They all started
to hear a girl's voice; and one of them told Mr.

94 THE CAMP-FIRE

Longacre that things began to look serious for him.
The old gentleman replied, that he hoped soldiers had
too much honor to lay hands on a young girl vrho had
been lost on the road. Some began to laugh ; others
whispered that it was a good joke; now and then,
one leaned over his horse's head, and peeped into the
wagon. They told her, in shocking language, that
she should go with me, while they would gallant us
to Boston. One of them was making preparations to
seat her before him on his horse ; but another officer,
that I had not seen before, rode up, and asked what
the fuss was about. When he found out, he asked
them if they were n't ashamed of themselves ; swear-
ing, at the same time, that he 'd shoot the first man
who laid a finger on her. One of them began some
shines; but the other, drawing a pistol, jammed it
against his breast, and told him to be quiet. He was
the only honorable officer that ever I saw with a red
coat on ; and I believe he was sent there by Heaven
that night, for poor Caddy's sake. But when Mr.
Longacre asked that I should be released, he would n't
consent ; and so I was sent back to town."

" But what become of her ?" enquired Hanna.

" You '11 hear soon enough, boys. When we parted,
I pressed her hand in mine, but I could n't speak.
^ ! I '11 go with you now,' she whispered ; but Mr.
Longacre told her we 'd meet again in better times.

"^You'll not forget me, Henry?' she said, still

AT LONG ISLAND. 95

holding my hand. I had just said ' Never/ when the
spiteful red-coat started his horse, so that I came near
Mling backward. I turned round; but could only
see Caddy's hand waving good-bye. Before morning,
I was safe enough in Boston."

" Not in limbo ?" enquired Rollin.

"Yes," was the answer. "At ten o'clock, I was
brought before the ' Court of Inquiry,' I believe they
called it ; and who should be there but Browne and
his son ! They could n't prove anything ; for I had
no property about me, and was no spy ; but I got a
sentence of six weeks."

"I'd like to have hold of the judge!" exclaimed
one of the hearers.

"And I, of the gaoler," added another.

"\Yell, boys," said Wilson, half musing; "how
much we have suffered for freedom, when one only
comes to look at it ! It 's a glorious thing, that Decla-
ration !"

While this and similar expressions were uttered by
all, each drew out his canteen and indulged in a
hearty draught, preparatory to listening to the re-
mainder of the young soldier's story. All was atten
tion, when he re-commenced : —

" I was ' pardoned,' as they call it, in about four
weeks; and went home with strict orders never to
attempt an escape again, if I valued my neck. It
was a hard thing to be kept in prison by red-coats ;

96 THE CAMP-FIRE

but I learned a good deal about tliem while I was
there. Sometimes they moved me from one place to
another ; when I kept both eyes open to see all that
could be seen. Often, too, I heard the sentinels, or
some of the soldiers, talking together about their
affairs. They said they were tired of fighting with
Britons like themselves, and wished King George
would make better laws, so as not to make people pay
taxes when they did n't want to. They were so short
of provisions, that it was said they had to eat horse-
flesh ; and they had no wood to burn, except what
they got by tearing down frame buildings, or stealing
pews and pulpits from churches ! All the lumber
belonging to our people, that they could lay hands on,
was seized. Some ships were also sent out to get
provisions from the southern colonies; but I never
heard what became of them. The soldiers were busy
building forts, which they made strong enough ; but
they were afraid to venture out of the town, because
they thought that General Washington, with his great
army, would cut them to pieces. When their provi-
sions were nearly out, and most of them were on the
shortest allowance, a supply arrived from England.
You ought to have seen the courageous red-coats,
down at the harbor, when the vessels arrived. Such
kicking, and stamping, and hurraing, — all because
they had got something to eat ! Then they marched
pigs, sheep, oxen, and cows, up to head-quarters ; the

AT LONG ISLAND. 97

officers going before with drawn swords, to kill tlie
first rebel that touched one of their cattle ; and a
company of soldiers behind, with long guns and bay-
onets, smacking their lips and grinning clear across
their faces. One flock after another was marched
along, and then came wagon-loads of pork, ham, and
vegetables. We had n't a chance to get any, though
we tried hard enough ; but John Baylis and Charley
Clifford lamed a good many sheep, by throwing stones
at them from behind houses."

" They are better at eating than at fighting," Wil-
son muttered.

"Some time before this," continued Smith, "Gene-
ral Howe had been sent over to take command. He
was a good deal better liked than ever Gage was ; but
he called us ' rebels,' and that was what we could n't
stand.

"At last, winter set in, in earnest; and I never
want to see another like it. So many people had
been turned out of doors by the soldiers, that three
or four families lived in one house. Some had no
wood, and had to chop up old benches, chairs, and
such things, to keep themselves warm. Every morn-
ing, little children ran along the wharves with bas-
kets, looking for pieces of bark and chips. When
snow was on the ground, they would dig it up with
their hands. They who had money, gave all they
could spare to the poor ; but it was such hard work
9 G

98 THE CAMP-FIRE

to get provisionSj that some of us did n't taste any-
thing but barley-water for two or three days. When
we managed to get flour, we boiled a little of it in
water, with small bits of meat, to make it last longer.
But many a one w^ent hungry all day, or had to be
satisfied with a few raw turnips, or a crust of bread.
All this time, the tories laughed at us fools and rebels,
and fattened themselves on the best that the British
camp could afford.

"• But this was n't all we suffered. One day, I saw
Dr. Nott talking to some man very seriously, and
knew something was the matter ; for, of all men, the
Doctor is the merriest. Thinks I, 'More red-coats
have come over ;' but I was mistaken. In a few days,
it was rumored that the small-pox was in town.
Then it was that people began to look pale, and to
crowd to General Howe for permits to leave town.
Sometimes they ran in crowds, to hear what the doc-
tors said ; and sometimes a man would hardly speak
to his own brother, in the street, lest he might catch
the pestilence. When any one was taken sick, his
friends said, right away, that he had the small-pox ;
and began to wring their hands and cry out. And
so, when it did begin to rage, the people were so
frightened, that one could hardly help another. The
poor wretches who caught the disease, were huddled
together in close rooms, without any fire, and some-
times without food. At night, when the streets were

AT LONG ISLAND. 99

still, we could hear them screaming for water, till
their voices grew hoarse. When one died, he was
dragged down the stairs, put into a wooden box, and
hurried to the burial-pits. Often the body fell to
pieces, being nothing but a crust of rottenness and
corruption. People deserted the houses in the neigh-
borhood that was first attacked, and moved two or
three miles away ; but they could n't escape. Others
washed their houses, and burned lime day and night
— all to no purpose. It broke out a mile from the
first place ; and next day was in the middle of the
town. Some persons fell in the street with fear and
weakness ; but no one would touch them, and they
died alone. When one in a family was attacked at
night, the others fled out through snow or rain, leav-
ing the poor fellow to shift for himself But it was a
sight, lads, that made many a heart ache, to see little
barefooted children sitting on door-steps, shivering
with cold, and crying for their dead mothers. I don't
know what got into the people ; but it seemed to me
that their hearts were hardened, as Caddy used to say
about sinners. Many a time I thanked Heaven that
she was n't there."

" It 's a horrible disease !" exclaimed Pierce.

"You should have seen it in Boston," Smith re-
plied. "The mere name of small-pox sometimeb
makes me shudder."

" Was it among the red-coats ?" enquired Ilanna.

100 THE CAMP-FIllE

"A good many thought so; but the British kept
matters to themselves. Still, I believe some of them
died with the disease. Had our people had plenty
of wholesome victuals, and warm fires, and airy ac-
commodations, as Howe's men had, I don't think
the pestilence would have spread among them, either.
The British officers might have sent some of their
doctors to help the sick; but they hadn't feeling
enough to do that. And, while I think of it, boys,
I '11 tell you how they enjoyed themselves, while in-
nocent people were dying all around them. Every
other night or so, there was a ball, where the red-
coats were dressed, and starched, and powdered, like
monkeys ; and they 'd bow, and grin, and scrape, and
caper, before half-a-dozen ugly tory women, enough
to sicken a horse. Next day they 'd be too drunk to
know whether their own soldiers were rebels or not;
and we 'd see them sometimes dozing, with their red
faces and dirty beards, beside the barrack windows.
They got up a theatre, too, where they showed things
to ridicule our army ; and some of them had the im-
pudence to ask Nancy Pierson, and some of her young
friends, to attend. Nancy sent them off with a flea
m their ear; and so did the other girls. One night in
February, they were going to bring out a great thing,
which was called ' The Blockade of Boston ;' which
meant the same as Washington besieging Boston. If
}'ou gave a shilling, you might get in. A paper was

AT LONG ISLAND. 101

put up at the corners about it; and some red-coat
wrote underneath, with a pencil, that rebels and beg-
gars, who were too poor or too mean to give a shilling,
might get in for tenpence."

"I couldn't have stood that insult I" ejaculated
Hanna.

'' That afternoon," continued Smith, " I met Boa-
genes Sturdie. Says he, 'Where are you going,
Smith?' and I told him. Then he said he had a
notion in his head ; and I asked him what it was.
Says he, ' Smith, I scorn the man that goes to a red-
coat theatre, and pays for going; but that paper,
to-day, stings me to the quick; and I am going in
without paying a penny.' Says I, ' How ?' He an-
swered, that there was to be a great rush of tories ;
and that some of them often got through in the crowd
without paying, and he knew he could do the same.
When I asked him if it would be right for patriots to
go to such a place, he said that a good many brisk
lads were to be there, to see if they could kick up a
fuss; and that every man that loved his country
ought to be near to help them. Then I agreed to go
with him; and we parted, to meet in time for the
show.

" When we got there, we found some of our boys

taking.the shillings, on the steps ; for the guards were

too drunk to see what was going on ; especially as it

was night. Sturdie winked as we went by, and they

9*

102 THE CAMP-FIRE

slipped each of us a shilling, to provide against
trouble. But when the tory fools got up to the door
on the second story, that opened into the theatre
entry, the door-keeper demanded their money. They
called him a fool ; saying they had given their money
to the real door-keepers, down below. He swore they
were lying ; for no one was there to receive money.
Now some of these very chaps were officers, with tory
girls on their arms; and there were some old rich
tories, that were n't used to hear insults, except from
us. So half-a-dozen clinched the poor fellow at the
same time, and dragged him down the steps, to give
him to the guards ; and the whole crowd rushed up
the entry and into the door, hurraing for King George
and the army. We laughed in our sleeves; and
soon found out that a good many of the boys were
behind us, laughing, too. The hubbub brought the
managers to the door ; and when they found out how
they had been cheated, they ran down into the street,
swearing to hang the rebels who had taken the
money. But they did n't find one of them ; and they
durst not ask those who had got in, for their money,
lest there should be another disturbance.

" Our lads kept themselves straight as a pine-tree,
till the show began. There was a big picture painted
like Boston, and a good many fine-dressed English
soldiers defending it. Some tories, dressed in rags,
pretended to be the Americans. They had spades,

AT LONG ISLAND. 103

picks, and broomsticks, instead of guns, and stove-
pipes for hats. This was n't enough ; but they had
the impudence to bring out his excellency, dressed in
a blanket, with a rusty sword in his hand, and a wig
that reached down to his waist. I asked Sturdie how
long we must bear such insults; but he was busy
contriving some mischief, and made no answer. Just
as Washington came out, some of the people near the
stove began to jump about as if a cannon-ball had
been shot among them. In a minute, we smelled
sulphur a-fire ; and such a fit of coughing don't often
happen in theatres. The managers ran down to the
stove; some ran down stairs; the women near the
stove fainted; and a fellow, dressed in a red coat,
roared out from the stage that there was no danger.
They let in fresh air; and were just beginning to
search for the one who had caused the mischief, when
a sergeant ran in, and throwing down his bayonet,
cried out that the Yankees were attacking Bunker
Hill. Some believed that this was part of the play ;
but, all at once, General Howe sprang to his feet, and
drawing his sword, ordered the officers to their alarm-
posts. The crowd was in an uproar ; — women
screaming and fainting; soldiers hurrying to seize
their guns; and the tories on their knees, praying
that their lives might be spared. Howe told the
people to clear the house ; and in the rush, the lights
on our side were knocked down. This was what we

104 THE CAMP-FIRE

wanted. .There were n't many silk dresses, nor cloth
coats, got out whole; saying nothing about the
damage done by the apothecaries' stuff that was put
on before the alarm was given. Besides, the front
ones were shoved down stairs headforemost; and
there they lay until the mob behind walked over
them. I kept near Sturdie all the time ; and as soon
as we got into the street, says he, ^ It was worth a
shilling — let 's scatter ;' and away we walked different
w^ays. We never found out who put the sulphur in
the stove, nor how it got in ; for all four stoves were
surrounded with tories only."

" It was a grand trick !" ejaculated one of the
hearers.

'^ But what made the sergeant run in ?" enquired
Hanna.

" I thought you remembered," Smith replied. '^ It
was the same night that Major Knowlton marched to
Charles town, and burned some houses there, so that
the red-coats couldn't use them for garrisons. We
thought for awhile that his excellency was coming
with all the army ; and the whole town was in an
uproar."

'' It was n't long after that, before he did come,"
remarked Wilson.

"Only a few weeks," the young man answered.
" I can't tell you, boys, how we felt when Howe and
his red-coats sailed from the town. It was a sight

AT LONG ISLAND. 105

that made every heart beat for joy. When the news
was spread through the country, people flocked from
all quarters to see their friends once more. The
streets were full of carriages and wagons ; and long
crowds of men, women, and boys, kept passing along
the sidewalks, carrying trunks and bundles. I went
down toward the Neck, early in the morning, to wait
for Deacon Stackhouse's wagon to come along ; for he
it was that had given Caddy a home after she left
Boston ; and he had sent word to me, two days before,
that he was going to bring her to town. After I had
waited about two hours, the old man came along.
Caddy w^as with him; but she didn't look as she
did when we parted. Her cheeks were thin and
white ; and I saw she had suffered a great deal. But
it was a happy meeting, after all ; and the poor girl
forgot all she had suffered from sickness and sorrow,
and seemed for awhile as lively and joyous as ever.
Still, she was not in good health ; for, like many other
poor women, she had been exposed to bad weather,
and hardships, and frights, the whole winter. I
do n't want to say much more, lads," the young man
continued, in a sad tone ; " she was too good for this
world ; but I believe she 'd have got well after all, if
she hadn't been attacked with the small-pox, of
which she died. We buried her in the graveyard
near her uncle's farm, and, the next day, I joined the
army."

106 THE CAMP-FIRE AT LONG ISLAND.

Such was the young soldier s story of the siege of
Boston. The night was now well advanced; and
each of the party lay down on his rude couch, to
dream on the narrative he had just heard, and on the
chances of the coming battle.

Siege of Bostoo.

Washington crossing the Delaware.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT SKIPPACK CREEK.

What heart that values American liberty, or that
can appreciate its blessings, has not felt sad, while
musing upon that dark period in our struggle for
independence, when a British army, flushed with
success, drove Washington, and his handful of con-
tinental troops, through New Jersey and across the
Delaware ? or what cheek has not been flushed with
enthusiasm, when reading of the battle of Trenton ?
The page of history which contains the narrative of
that glorious action, has often appeared too tame to
reflect the feelings with which we peruse it ; and we
long to have near us some actor in the stormy event,
that we may hear him dwell upon each little incident,
and paint scenes and characters, as is not done by the
formal historian. Alas ! the heroes of '7G have de-
parted ! Yet here and there is found, among their
posterity, a letter, a camp-journal, or a written narra-
tive, penned in hours of gloom and danger; but
which, rude and unlearned though it be, transports
us to the troubled camp, and gives us a glimpse of

(107)

108 THE CAMP-FIRE

the sufferings endured by our fathers^ to achieve inde-
pendence for their children.

For some days before the battle of German town,
the American army was encamped at Skippack Creek,
a little stream which runs into the east bank of the
Schuylkill, about twenty miles above Philadelphia.
It was autumn ; and large fires were frequently kept
burning, to warm the half-clad soldiers. Wearied
with their constant marches since the battle of the
Brandywine, the soldiers were allowed a short season
of repose; and alternately companies ranged the
woods in quest of fuel, nuts, and game. At night,
the men lay together in small groups, in that part of
their tent or hut nearest the camp-fire; and while
thus endeavoring to keep themselves warm, many
were the stories which they related to one another,
of scenes they had witnessed in former stages of the
war. It was with peculiar delight, on such occasions,
that a young man named Nathan Black, who had
been at the battles of Trenton and Princeton, related
to the recruits who had joined since that time, the
share he had taken in them. Black was an orphan,
who had been bound to a maternal uncle, at the age
of twelve years. So read, at least, his indenture;
but many inferred, from his size and extraordinary
strength of mind, that he was bound when at least
fifteen. As the records of the family were lost during
the tumultuous scenes with which the revolution

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 109

opened, it was impossible to ascertain with precision ;
but Black always affirmed that his uncle had cheated
him out of three years, for the sake of the accruing
profits. All parties were Quakers; and at first all
were tories. But, long before the declaration of inde-
pendence, young Black had learned to sympathize
with his suffering countrymen. Secretly he espoused
their cause ; and, contriving to escape from his tory
master, he accompanied the fifteen hundred Philadel-
phians who joined Washington after he had crossed
the Delaware, and was present in all the important
operations of the winter campaign. Such a com-
panion, in the camp on the Schuylkill, was esteemed
by officers and men; and no one was oftener employed
to gratify their curiosity, by recounting stories in
which he had been an actor.

"What made you think of turning?" enquired a
comrade, as Black sat one evening among a group of
soldiers, at whose request he was relating an anecdote
of a tory who had lost all his property, and become

insane.

" One reason was," he answered, " I did n't like to
be called a tory ; and when I heard boys and men
hurraing for freedom, it made my blood stir, though
I could n't tell why. I said to myself, ' What good
will King George do me, if he conquers? None.
What good will Congress do me ? Why, they '11 take
jfi* the taxes, and perhaps make me a freeman.' These
10

110 THE CAMP-FIRE

things were up before my mind every day ; especially
as my apprenticeship would soon be over, and then
I 'd have to make a living for myself. Besides, uncle
Isaac was a tory; and that was enough to set me
against the whole party of them. Sometimes, a
number of them would meet at his house, to drink
wine, and make fun of General Washington. Uncle
Isaac was worse than a Turk, when he had liquor in
him, if it was only a spoonful ; and some of the boys
or the servants were sure to get horsewhipped before
he got sober.

" One Monday afternoon, I heard the glasses ringing
in the parlor, and knew that somebody would be
regulated before he got to bed. Others knew it as
well as myself; and so we began to prepare for the
worst. In half an hour, Isaac came partly down the
steps; and after looking around, beckoned with his
fore-finger for me to come up. I followed him on
tiptoe ; but my heart was heavy. He asked me if I
remembered being at a rebel meeting, the Saturday
night before. I told him I had only stopped to see
what was going on. ' Did thy duty impel thee to
stop, Nathan ?' he asked. I told him that it did n't.
^Did thy conscience, Nathan?' I saw I'd get the
hiding, anyhow; and so I answered, 'Yes.' 'Then
I '11 not interfere with thy conscience ; but thee shall
be regulated, for doing more than thy duty. Thee '11
fmd the horsewhip hanging in the usual place, behind

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. Ill

the dresser/ But just then I felt bolder than I ever
had ; for, since being at the meeting, it seemed as if
I had got a new spirit. So I stood still, till he said
the rebel was strong in me ; and then I told him I
was no rebel. The upshot was, I got beat half to
death; and Isaac suffered severely, too, especially
about the ribs. He never gave me a good word after-
wards ; but watched me closely, for fear I 'd try to
run off. Every day, he 'd come into the workshop,
about quitting time, and follow me up to the house ;
and as soon as supper was over, he sat down with the
boys till dark ; when every one had to retire to his
room. But, one night, I slipped into the cellar, and
waited there till Isaac had gone to bed, when I con-
trived to get the bar from the outside cellar-door, and
made my escape. I hid myself, that night, in a field
a little above the State-House, where some trees had
been chopped down, and the logs piled together on
the ground, with brush over them. Some men went
down the road to town, soon after ; and I knew they
were tories, by their talk. Next day, I ran along
Sassafras Lane till I reached the American camp.
An officer took me into a tent, placed me by the fire,
and listened while I told my story. He asked me if
I was willing to join a party that was going to help
General Washington. I told him I was ; and, some
days after, we were on our march. The women had
been busy for a long time, making clothes, and pro-

112 THE CAMP-FIRE •

viding other little things, to make the party comfort-
able; so that we were much better off than the
regulars in camp. I had never seen a camp before ;
and it made me feel queer, to see men walking over
the frozen ground barefoot, others with their toes and
feet frosted black, and some with a ragged blanket
throw^n over their shoulders instead of a coat. The
poor fellows looked on our clothing with longing eyes ;
and I could almost have pulled off my shoes to give
to some of them."

" Did they cross the river, in that condition ?" en-
quired one of the listeners.

"A good number of them did," replied Black ; " but
you know some could n't cross for the ice. Two days
after we had arrived, his excellency came to see us.
He was on horseback. You know how he can ride ;
and what a noble way he has of sitting on his horse,
when soldiers march before him. I had seen him two
or three times before, at Philadelphia, when he did n't
look half so fine. He was pleased with our appear-
ance, and gave orders that we should be drilled care-
fully every day. And drilling enough we had, over
the roughest ground, and in the worst weather. Still,
our men were in high spirits ; although I soon found
out that the S^eterans,' as they were called, felt
gloomy and suspicious."

"Weren't they out of heart?" asked a soldier
named Reed.

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 113

^' They were, indeed. Sometimes they whispered
among themselves, that the members of Congress
kept back their pay, and neglected to send on clothes ;
and, let me tell you, comrades, there were more than
a few under-officers there, who threatened to raise a
revolt. Others thought there was no use of fighting
any longer against the king. We had been driven,
they said, from one colony to another ; and we 'd be
driven further, as soon as the river freezed over. If
Congress wanted them to be butchered, why did n't
the members say so, and not let men drop to pieces
with cold and hunger? Sometimes our men would
try to talk with them ; but we received answer, that
it was easier to talk about order, with a warm coat
and good shoes on, than to fight a whole campaign
barefoot and in rags. I believe if it had n*t been that
their time was out at the end of the year, they would
have gone off by regiments."

" Did they get no relief till after the battle ?" en-
quired Whilden, an old soldier, who had been through
the French war.

"Very little," continued Black. "Once a week.
— perhaps not so often, — a small bundle of shoes, or
coats, or trousers, came up from the city; but it was
a poor chance among so many. Most of us lent our
coats at times ; but this led to some disorder, and was
at last forbidden. One day, when there had been a
great deal of angry talking, we saw General Washing-
10=^^ 11

114 THE CAMP-FIRE

ton riding toward the veteran camp. After dis-
mounting, he walked into one of the tents, and began
to speak with the soldiers, about their condition.
His kindness, and the sorrow he felt for them, brought
tears to every eye. They told him how much they
suffered, and showed their miserable food and ragged
clothes. He passed from tent to tent, and found it
was everywhere the same. The general gave them
all the comfort he could ; praising their faithfulness
to the cause, when their reward was so poor, and pro-
mising to do all he could with Congress, and also with
private citizens, for their relief. It cheered the poor
fellows, to know that at least his excellency cared for
them; and when they saw tears stealing down the
general's cheeks, they felt ashamed of their complain-
ing, and willing to endure as many more hardships,
if they were only for his sake."

" He 's got a noble heart !" ejaculated one of the
group.

" He was born to save America," Whilden added.

'^ There was no more murmuring after that," re-
sumed Black ; " but the soldiers rather seemed proud
that they were suffering for freedom. And this was
fortunate enough ; for, shortly afterwards, we received
orders to hold ourselves in readiness to marck at the
shortest notice. This threw the camp into confusion.
None of the soldiers knew what enemy was to be
attacked; for, as to crossing the river, it wasn't

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 115

dreamed of. Some began to think that we were to be
sent to Philadelphia, to punish the tories ; for there
were hundreds of them there, as cruel and as bitter
against the patriots, as uncle Isaac was. On Christ-
mas eve, all the guns were examined, and a supply
of provisions was dealt out. We understood, from
this, that some enterprise was to be undertaken next
day. This was a bad prospect ; for the weather was
very cold, and snow fell occasionally, in blinding
showers. In the morning, all the soldiers of each
regiment were placed together, and the arms were
again examined. By and by, General Washington
rode along the lines, pointing out the companies that
had been selected ; and in them were about ^yq hun-
dred of our Philadelphia men. Every heart beat
with expectation ; and when it was whispered along
the ranks, that we were to cross the river at M'Con-
key's Ferry, and march down upon Trenton, gladness
was seen in all faces. No one doubted that we would
gain the victory, if the general led us ; and it was
soon ascertained that he was going to do so.

" In the afternoon, the wind blew from the north,
like a hurricane. Hail and rain fell so thickly, at
times, that we could n't see half-way across the en-
campment ; besides, the weather grew colder every
hour. The general was on horseback through it all ;
but the soldiers were allowed to stay in the tents till
nearly all the arrangements for marching had been

116

THE CAMP-FIRE

made. The last order was, that we should be careful
of our guns and powder ; and in a little while after,
we were on our road to the ferry, which we reached
about dusk. A great many of the men had become
discouraged by the storm ; and when they heard the
ice in the river crashing in all directions, and the
water lashing the banks, from the force of the wind,
they were almost ready to throw down their arms in
despair. But it was too late either to turn back, or
stand still. "We heard the officers giving orders, yet
could see nothing, for the storm and the darkness.
When the soldiers embarked, they had to cling to
each other ; so strong was the wind, and so high did
the waves toss and turn the boats. After the first
loads had started, those who remained behind were
numbed with cold, and harassed with doubts. Some
said we could n't cross ; others thought the boatmen
were calling for help ; and all of us could hear, plainly
enough, the ice dashing against the boats. It was a
long time before the second division could embark ;
and still many were left behind, I being among them.
At last, our turn came ; and, hard as it had been to
stand on the shore, I found it nothing, compared to
that passage of the river. Sometimes, sheets of ice
would strike the boat, and carry it for some distance
down the river, before the boatmen could row clear
of them. Then large waves broke over the sides,
wetting us through, and half filling the boat with

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 117

water. Our fingers froze fast to our guns; and we
had no other way to keep ourselves warm, than to sit
close together, exposing our hands and feet as little
as possible. When we first landed on the Jersey
shore, some could n't stand, but had to be lifted ashore
by the others. The artillery arrived safely ; and then
such of the officers as had remained behind, came
over in the last boat. By this time, most of the
soldiers had formed in regular order. The general
and his staff passed from point to point, exhorting
the men to do their duty, and assuring them that if
they did, their present sufferings would be ended.

"It was now four o'clock in the morning. We
began the march in two columns. One, under Gene-
ral Sullivan, moved down the river road; and the
other, down the Pennington road. General Greene
led the second division ; while his excellency passed
from one company to another, exhorting his men to
do their duty. It snowed and hailed during the
wdiole march ; and our road was marked with blood
from the bare feet of the men. But I did n't hear
them complain ; for their spirits were now roused for
the battle. When it grew light enough for the gene-
ral to see their condition, he told them that there was
warm clothing, and plenty of food, in the enemy's
quarters, which he hoped would soon be ours. On
hearing this, they marched faster; and, in half an
hour, we were near the hills among which the town

118 THE CAMP-FIKE

is built. The officers galloped along from one com-
pany to another, waving their swords, and telling us
that now was the time to fight for our country, and
drive the cruel Britons from the soil. They reminded
us of the outrages in the Jerseys, of the manner in
which peaceable people had been treated, even after
surrendering, and of the great cause for which vfe
were fighting. I had never seen a battle ; because,
as I told you, I had been brought up among the
Quakers; but these w^ords of the officers filled me
with new life, and I marched .with as great an air,
and as little fear, as any veteran. "We weren't to
make any noise till th.e "attack commenced; but then
to hurrah with all our might, to let the other division
hear us, if they should be near. About eight o'clock,
we approached the bridge, at the cross-roads, where
the red-coats were posted. The first we met, was a
guard of only a few men, who were so drunk that
they did n't see us coming, till we were too close for
them to escape. They had had a merry Christmas
together; eating pies, puddings, and chickens, and
cursing the rebels. Three or four, who were in the
tent nearest to us, ran out without their guns, to ask
what was the matter. I saw Greene in front, waving
his sword, and heard the line ahead of us, firing.
Thinks I, the battle 's begun, and we must take our
chance. In a moment, his excellency dashed along
toward the front, another volley was fired, and then

^^^^

AT SKIP PACK CREEK. HQ

we heard the boys in front, hurraing. At the same
moment, the other column was firing, further down ;
and soon we marched, in double-quick time, toward
the British main jDarty. These were the Hessians ;
and, after all their cruelties to our women and chil-
dren, we could have bayoneted them without mercy.
But strict orders had been given, to spare all pri-
soners ; yet we could n't be stopped from shooting as
many as possible, when we did fire. Colonel Rahl,
who commanded them, fought bravely, trying to save
his field-pieces ; but he was picked off by some of our
men. The rest of us rushed on, carrying all before
us, and driving off the cannoneers in every direction.
Three cheers were given for the guns, by the officers
as well as men ; but we did n't stop — no, not for a
moment. Washington was n't to be seen ; for he was
giving orders about stopping the red-coats, if they
made a push for Princeton. General Mercer galloped
by us, waving his hat, and shouting that America
was still safe. He had hardly gone, wlien one of
Greene's aids dashed along on the other flank, order-
ing us to make one more charge. On we drove,
through the camp, overcoming all opposition, and
chasing the fugitives toward Princeton. x\fter a
short time, we saw the detachment that his excel-
lency had thrown in their rear. These veterans
hailed us Avith loud shouts ; and as soon as the Hes-
sians observed that they were Americans, they threw

120 THE CAMP-FIRE

down their muskets^ and bawled for quarter. They
were all surrounded and taken prisoners. Sullivan's
division was now in sight. They had also captured
a great number ; besides securing a large quantity of
clothmg. The Hessians stacked their muskets, which
amounted to a thousand ; w^e also got six field-pieces.
By and by, his excellency, with some other officers,
rode up with their hats off, when the very air rung
with the hurraing. Some of the boys behind forgot
to stop, after they had given eighteen cheers ; and
kept shouting for America and Washington, till the
general began to laugh, and sent to tell them that he
was satisfied."

" How many were killed at that battle ?" asked one
of the soldiers.

"Only two of our men. But two poor fellows
froze to death, crossing the river. The Hessians lost
their colonel and six other officers, besides twenty or
thirty men. After all was over, and the prisoners
had been secured, the general said we must have
something to eat. In the camp, we found everything
of the best, w^hich the Hessians had left from their
Christmas dinner. We soon put it to a better use ;
and as large fires w^ere burning in the houses that
formed the British quarters, we had the most com-
fortable meal that had been eaten by us since we
w^ere an army. I saw tears of joy rolling down the
cheeks of the old veterans, w^hich they tried to brush

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 121

away with their ragged sleeves. The officers were as
happy as the men ; for they believed that affairs
would now take a turn. As there was plenty of rum
in the cellars, the general ordered that our canteens
should be filled, before we started. What remained,
with the enemy's baggage, provisions, and other
things, was packed for easier carriage.

"After breakfast was over, we got ready for march-
ing. The other troops, who were to cross the river,
above and below us, hadn't been able to do so, on
account of the ice ; and therefore the general resolved
to cross the river immediately, in order to place his
prisoners in safety. After defeating the Hessians
and eating a good breakfast, we found marching much
pleasanter than when we came up from the river ;
and nothing was talked of, along the way, but the
victory. We were received, on the opposite side,
with loud cheers. When the soldiers had reached
the camp, the muskets v/ere distributed among those
who were without arms, and the clothing in like
manner. It was lucky for our men, that baggage and
clothing was taken that day, as well as prisoners."

" What was done with the prisoners ?" enquired a
listener.

"You remember they were Hessians," continued

Black. " This made us think it would go hard with

them ; especially as they had carried on all kinds of

outrage in the Jerseys, during the winter. Most of

11

122 THE CAMP-FIRE

our soldiers tliought they would be shot ; and many
said that they deserved a still worse death. But his
excellency had determined to deal with them in a
way of his own. When they had been placed in
quarters, he visited them, in company with an inter-
preter ; and his officers told them what the Americans
were fighting for, and how much the soldiers of other
nations ought to feel interested in their cause, rather
than consent to oppose it. They answered, that the
British had told them that the Americans were only
a parcel of rebels and savages, and the army nothing
but a mob of ragamuffins. The general asked them
if they had ever known our people to act like savages.
They acknowledged that they had never seen any-
thing of the kind ; but said that the British had told
them that the rebels never gave quarter in battle ;
that they chopped their prisoners to pieces, just to try
their swords, or else stripped off their skins, to make
drum-heads of; and that the women were far more
fierce and cruel than the men !"

"And had the British told them such tales?" asked
Whilden.

" Yes, and still worse ones. They even said the
young rebels were taught to eat Hessian meat, instead
of pork; and that the prisoners were fattened for
the purpose ! This, you know, they did to make the
Hessians fight better; and these simple Dutchmen
believed every word, and were ready to kill every

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 123

American in cold blood; whether men, women, or
children. Our officers would have laughed out, had
not his excellency looked quite sober, and proceeded
with the conversation. He asked the prisoners if
they had received quarter or not at Trenton; and
they had to confess the truth. Then he asked how
many of the dead they had seen insulted after the
battle. To this they gave no answer ; knowing that
the killed on both sides had been buried with equal
decency. The general asked many more questions,
until, at last, the poor Dutchmen were utterly
ashamed of themselves, and acknowledged that they
had not been so kindly spoken to, since landing in
America. Some of them could hardly speak, for joy,
when they learned that their lives would be spared.
His excellency told them, that if they would lay
down their arms, and become farmers, he would ac-
count them the same as his countrymen, and defend
their rights as he did his own. They consented
willingly enough ; saying that if the other Hessians
in the British army heard of the offer, they would
desert in a body. And, not long after, they did hear
about it; when they ran off in such numbers, that
the officers had to watch them closer than they would
prisoners.

"News of the battle reached Philadelphia that
night, and threw the town into an uproar. The bells
were rung, and crowds of people flocked toward Gen*

124 THE CAMP-FIRE

eral Putnam's camp, to hear the details. But the
tories were nearly as strong as our men ; so that, two
or three times, there came near heing a riot. They
said it was plain enough that Washington had been
defeated, else why would he return across the river
on the same day he crossed it ; and as to the report
of prisoners and muskets being taken, they laughed
at it. But, in two or three days, the Hessians were
sent down in wagons, and lodged safely in the city ;
so that the enemies of our freedom could see that the
report of the battle had been no joke. The tories
now began to be afraid. Some of them, thinking the
war w^as over, and that Howe would be in Philadel-
phia as soon as the river should freeze, had acted, for
some time, pretty much as they pleased — that is,
when they w^ere out of old Putnam's hearing ; for I
want you to understand, that no one spoke ill of the
cause when he was near. It was told in camp, that
these tories held secret meetings every week ; when
they talked about helping Howe, if he attempted to
attack Philadelphia. The news of our victory at
Trenton, frightened them a little ; but they still kept
up such an excitement, that Putnam w^as employed,
with his whole force, watching them. People w^ere
afraid to stir from their doors at night, as they heard
so much about plots and secret enemies ; and a soldier,
who joined our company after the battle of Princeton,
told us that some of the tories were persuading the

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 125

inhabitants to burn the city 5 so that, as they said, it
wouldn't fall into foreign hands. This they did,
pretending to be in favor of our cause. He said that
all the citizens who had guns, saw that they were
loaded and primed every night before venturing to
sleep ; and that, for some weeks before Christmas, a
rising of all the tories in Philadelphia was expected.
But they were frightened out of this attempt, by
seeing the Hessian prisoners, and by the watchfulness
of old Putnam, who seemed to be all over town at
the same time. After New-Year's day, they became
quiet enough ; but I suppose that they 're merry as
crickets now, since their red-coat friends have joined
them."

" How long was it before you crossed again ?" en-
quired one of the listeners.

"Four days. His excellency wanted to give us
time to rest, after so much exposure. But we learned
afterwards, that Colonel Cadwalader, with a consider-
able body of militia, had crossed below us, on the
27th, and moved toward Burlington. On learning
that Washington had not remained in Trenton, he
would have crossed again; but his officers, and
Colonel Reed, advised him to push on. He did so ;
and was driving the enemy before him, when we
crossed over to Trenton. His excellency joined us
next day ; and Colonel Reed was sent out, with six
horsemen, that morning, to reconnoitre. He returned
11*

126 THE CAMP-FIRE

with twelve prisoners, that he had taken in a house
near Clarksville. They had pistols and swords ; but
the Colonel charging them boldly, they surrendered.
The sergeant escaped through the back-door, and
did n't stop running till he got to Princeton ; where
he told them that he had fought his way through
fifty horsemen. We understood, also, that Colonel
Reed brought information of a large force preparing
to march against us ; but the soldiers could n't learn
the particulars. It was certain that we could not
stay long in Jersey, without at least one more brush
with the enemy ; and those who knew the strength
of Howe, concluded that it would be hotter and
heavier than it was at Trenton. But our officers
were confident of victory ; and all the militia who
had lately arrived, rejoiced at the prospect of being
able to do something as great and honorable as had
been done the week before.

"But, just at this time, the camp was filled with
confusion and alarm. For some time, none of our
battalion knew what was the matter. Officers stood
ready to receive orders, and the men looked one at
another, not knowing what to do or say. It was not
that the enemy was near ; for none but our own men
could be seen ; and even if an army had been march-
ing toward us, there was time to retreat, if necessary.
At last, an aid to one of the officers passed along by
the tents, and left orders for us to be ready to move

\T SKIPPACK CREEK. 127

at the shortest notice. He had scarcely passed the
house where we were cantoned, when one who seemed
to be a straggler, whispered, as he hurried by, that
the veterans were in revolt. This was news indeed ;
yet only a few believed it. We could n't think that
the men who had suffered so much, and fought so
well for freedom, would now desert the cause. Still
the confusion seemed to increase ; and many officers
rode backward and forward in the streets ; but so fast,
that we could learn nothing from them of the state
of affairs. After a long and anxious watch, we were
allowed to retire to our quarters again ; but we did
not hear the true cause of the alarm till the following
day."

"Wasn't that the time they wanted to be dis-
banded?" enquired Whilden.

" Yes," was the reply ; " for their time had expired.
It was n't a revolt ; but it was almost as bad for the
army, as though it had been. They had a right to
go home on the last day of the year, according to
their bargain with Congress ; and this they asked to
be allowed to do. But you remember what a blow
this would give to our cause ; in Jersey, too, where
the British were preparing to attack us. The general
and his officers saw what would be the result, and
determined to keep them a little longer, if it could be
done. But all remonstrances seemed in vain. They
said they were no longer soldiers, and would go off in

128 THE CAMP-FIRE

a body. When mention was made of Congress, they
cursed the members, and thanked Heaven they had
got free from them. They told the general that they
honored and loved him ; but asked what use it was
to depend on promises any longer, when they received
no pay, no clothing, no food fit to eat, and no real
encouragement for the future. When they were pre-
paring to move, and there had been, for some minutes,
deep silence, Washington walked toward them, with
some of his officers following, and made so stirring an
appeal to them, that some paused, and put down their
bundles. Seeing this, half-a-dozen low fellows began
to swear ; but the others made them be quiet. Several
of the officers also addressed them ; and, at last, a
bounty of ten dollars was ofiered to every one who
would remain six weeks longer. About half of them
agreed to accept the offer.

"It was well for our army, that this afiair was
settled so easily. Next day, we heard that a large
army was moving toward us ; and some said it was
commanded by Lord Cornwallis. Colonel Eeed was
out all day, examining the ground, and picking up
information; and Cadwalader, with his men, was
ordered up from below. That night, the camp was
in a bustle ; and, early next morning, we took post in
Trenton. Here we remained till the scouts brought
the intelligence that the British were approaching.
The marching and turning of the troops bewildered

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 129

me very much ; and I 'm most ashamed to say that,
at last, when we did stop, I could n't tell whether we
were facing north or south. I whispered to Samuel
Cresson, who stood next to me, if he knew where the
enemy were ; but he was as ignorant as myself Still,
most of the men were in high spirits ; for they ima-
gined they would get another victory as easily as they
had the day after Christmas ; besides, as the weather
was cold, the excitement warmed them.

" By this time, some British cavalry had been dis-
covered coming down from Princeton. A large party
followed them, but, on seeing our scouts, turned back.
We could do nothing till we heard from our advanced
guard, who were in a w^ood, some miles further up,
behind Shabbocunk Creek. Parties of riflemen were
there, to harass the enemy ; and it was thought that,
if they gained any advantage, the main body could
improve it, either by defeating the enemy, or keeping
them back till night, when Washington would be able
to cross the river. Our officers were all on horseback,
talking with great earnestness, and they appeared to
be much perplexed. A number of aids rode one by
one to his excellency, and, after saj'ing something in
a hurry, and receiving orders, galloped away. At
last, General Greene, with a few men, hurried forward,
in double-quick time, to join the party in the woods.
The battle hud begun ; fur we heard sharp firing
ahead, long before Greene was out of sight. It was

I

130 THE CAMP-FIRE

now twelve o'clock. Our whole army was in motion,
crossing the little bridge over the Assanpink ; for the
ground on the other side was higher and better than
that we were on ; besides which, we would then have
the creek in our front. About half were across, when
we saw the riflemen, and the rest of the advance-
party, retreating as fast as they could; and, soon
after, the enemy commenced firing on that part of the
army which still remained in Trenton. At first, they
were disposed to run; but the officers maintained
order, and hurried the march over the bridge. Now,
for the first time, I saw a large army in motion ; for
the British had got into the road, and were marching
on toward our front and left. Their bayonets, as the
sun shone on them, seemed like a forest on fire ; and
they stepped so smooth and regular, that if I had n't
been busy with our own concerns, I could have gazed
at them all day. But when the artillery began to
thunder, a great deal of the beauty wore away ; and
our men quickened their movements across the bridge.
Both armies were now firing musketry and cannon-
shot; and we expected that it would continue the
whole afternoon.

" It was then that a comrade, next to me, was shot
dead. You know, soldiers, we do n't mind such things
now, because we 've seen them so often. But it
was n't so with me, then ; for you know I had only
been at Trenton, where there was little bloodshed.

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 131

Besides, I hadn't got over some of uncle Isaac's
notions about war. But, not to run before the story,
John Andrews, a young soldier, about my own age,
was next to me. We had been in camp together
from the time we left Philadelphia, and generally
marched in company. He was always talking of his
mother ; and he sent her nearly all his money. She
was poor, and made her living by sewing -, yet her
great comfort was to have a son Hke this young man.
It was a dreadful day for her, when he joined the
army -, yet she told him that, since he was going, he
must fight bravely. In the camp, he used to tell me
all the plans he had formed to help her, after he
should get home ; for he never seemed to think there
was a chance of being killed.

"But the poor lad was not to see his home again.
The skirmishing, as I told you, was now going on
very sharply, and some had fallen on both sides. I
was looking toward General Greene, who had brought
off the advance-party safely, when a terrible scream
caused me to turn suddenly. John had been shot
through the forehead. Ilis eyes turned upward to-
ward me, and stretched wide open ; sending a shudder
through me, that I felt for many days. How gladly
would I have stooped to help him ! but we hurried
on, over his body, leaving hnu to die. I was sick
enough of the battle, though it had just begun; for
I thought of nothing but poor Andrews and his

132 THE CAMP-FIRE

mother, and the misery his death would cause her,
during the whole day."

"Did the battle stop, when you were over the
bridge ?" enquired a soldier.

"No; it had just begun. His excellency formed
us on the hills and high ground, where we had the
advantage over the enemy. All our artillery was
ranged along the creek; and it kept the British at
bay till night. Still, the firing was n't regular. Some-
times it stopped altogether, when we would be alarmed
with reports that Cornwallis, or some of his officers,
were crossing above, so as to march down and attack
our rear. Then the firing of musketry would begin
again, and continue, briskly enough, for a good while,
assisted occasionally by the artillery. At times, the
creek seemed to foam with the shot which fell into it.
Our men kept their ground bravely ; though we could
see plainly enough, that the enemy's force was much
greater than ours. Nor were they, like many of us,
militia ; but the best troops of Brunswick and other
garrisons. Yet, seeing that they didn't attempt to
cross the creek, our officers began to think that the
real battle was to be on the next day. And this we
were sure of, as the afternoon wore away ; for, about
sunset, the firing ceased. We had hoped, all day,
that the river would freeze strong enough to allow us
to cross ; but, instead of this, the weather became so
warm, that whoever moved, sank in mud at every

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 133

step. The ice in the Delaware was half broken up ;
large cakes of it were carried down by the current ;
and sometimes the frozen part, near the shore, cracked
with a report like a cannon. Hence we could neither
cross on the ice, nor in boats. Now it was that we
began to see the danger of our situation ; now we
felt sure that Cornwallis had driven us over the
creek, where we were shut up by the hills and the
river, only that he might cut us to pieces on the fol-
lowing morning. The soldiers and militia had be-
haved well enough during the day ; but when they
found out, as they thought, that we were to be slaugh-
tered, or captured, in the morning, they were almost
on the point of deserting. Tired as we were with
fighting and marching for nearly two days and a
night, none thought of sleep. You might have seen
little groups of three or four in every tent, whispering
together, with wild, rolling eyes, and clenched fists.
They declared that his excellency had been tricked
by the officers ; that the scouts sent out were traitors ;
and that our army ought to have crossed the river
before the British came in sight. Some talked of
crossing the high grounds, without waiting for orders,
and marching up the country ; and others swore that
they 'd not fire a shot on the next day, since they had
been deceived in the first place. The under-officers
attempted once or twice to interfere ; but they found
their authority, in a good measure, gone ; and had to
12

134 THE CAMP-FIRE

wink at the violation of order. If the army had
stayed there all night, I believe all the men, conti-
nentals as well as militia, would have run, next
morning, at the first fire."

" That was a 'cute trick of his excellency, to march
away, at night, to Princeton!" ejaculated one of the
soldiers.

" It saved America !" replied Black. " Besides, we
learned a lesson, not to find fault with our officers,
even if we did n't see all at once into their measures.
While the soldiers were complaining, Washington and
his generals met in council, at General St. Clair's.
This quieted the murmuring; but there was great
anxiety to know what was going to be done. By and
by, a report was circulated, I do n't know how, that
we were to retreat up the Delaware, and cross some
miles above Trenton. This threw the soldiers into
fresh disorder. They complained of wanting rest;
and asked how they were to march through the mud,
dragging cannon after them. It was n't because they
were not brave men ; but, somehow, they had become
discouraged, and, for awhile, did n't care whether they
obeyed orders or not.

" This state of things did n't last very long. While
the men were disputing among themselves, a line of
fires was kindled along the creek, opposite those of
the enemy. Every one in our tent, and as far as I
could see around, turned out to look at them. This

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 135

perplexed us more than anything before ; and Edward
Gillon, who w^as standing near, asked me if we were
to stay all night. I told him I did n't know ; when
he said he knew one thing, which was, he 'd be off in
the morning, if they should. One of the men, — I
forget his name, but he was wounded, next day, in
the shoulder, — said it was best to be quiet, till we
found out, for certain, what was going to be done.
A sergeant came in about that time, and told us to
wrap ourselves up warm, for a north-easter was
coming. At first, we did n't believe him ; but, in two
or three minutes, the wind increased almost to a hur-
ricane ; and, after the first gust was over, it became
so cold, that we were glad to wrap blanket, coat, or
rag, about us. This encouraged the men a little ; for
what they had most dreaded, was to travel through
mud. The fires blazed higher every moment, hiding
us completely from the British. At the same time,
we heard a dull noise, like the working of pickets ;
and, before morning, learned that several parties had
been set at work by the general, to make Cornwallis
believe we were going to stay all night. Sentinels
were also posted at the fires, to show themselves
occasionally to the enemy. While we were in sus-
pense, to know what these movements were to end in,
orders ran through camp, to prepare for marching.
AVe were glad enough to hear them, now that the
weather was bitter cold, and the ground frozen hard

136 THE CAMP-FIRE

enough to bear cannon. For more than an hour, the
camp was in a bustle of preparation 5 but v/e wer'i
forbidden to make the least noise, or to whisper, ex-
cept to the officers. But some were so full of curi-
osity, that they chose to break orders, rather than be
ignorant of where they were going. This was soon
put a stop to; and afterwards the deepest silence
reigned among us. About twelve o'clock, the bag-
gage and part of the artillery was sent to Burlington ;
and, about an hour afterwards, the whole army was
in motion — not following the baggage, but pushing
up the country, towards Princeton. The road was as
hard as stone; and we marched fast and quietly,
w^ithout the slightest disorder. The left flank of the
British was turned, and all hearts beat with joy, as
we looked down the line of their fire^, and felt that
we had nearly escaped. Our own fires were burning
as bright as ever ; for parties were attending to them.
On we went, ready to cheer the minute we got leave,
and whispering words of joy, when the officers were
not near. About daylight, we reached Stony Brook ;
and a halt was ordered, that the rear might come up.
General Mercer was again sent in advance ; but the
Pennsylvania boys remained with Washington. On
reaching a wood, below the meeting-house that stands
on the brook, we struck into it, while Mercer pushed
up the creek, to destroy the bridge on the road leading
to Trenton. It was now near sunrise ; but no enemy

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 137

was to be seen, nor was any news heard of Lord
Cornwallis. But while we hurried on, hoping to
enter Princeton without a battle, sharp firing was
hoard ahead; a sign that Mercer was attacked.
Washington no sooner heard the first gun, than he
marched, with a detachment, to his aid. Arriving
near the wood, he saw Mercer's militia flying, and
their colonel wounded ; but nothing of Mercer him-
self. His excellency galloped along our line, ordering
us to form in the wood. ^Ye wanted to push on ; but
he reined up his horse in front of us, and gave orders
to halt. Every eye was on him ; for he was opposite
the enemy's fire, and we expected to see him fall.
But, the next minute, he galloped directly through
their shower of cannon-shot, and rallied Mercer's
men on a little ridge, near the road. By this time,
the Virginia boys joined us, when we could wait no
longer ; but rushed on, cheering as loud as we could,
and pouring our fire, hot and heavy, on the regiment
that had defeated Mercer. Then Washington opened
with his cannon, from the ridge ; and for awhile they
made the earth shake. I was in a regular battle, at
last ; yet it did n't seem like one, after all. I always
expected to be frightened half to death ; and that I 'd
run, if I could get off, without looking behind. But
it 's true, soldiers, I was n't half so cowardly as I had
been the day before, in camp."

"That's the way I felt at first," remarked one,
12*

138 THE CAMP-FIRE

whose first practical acquaintance with w^ar, had been
at the Brandywine. " Before I saw a red-coat, thinks
I, Tommy, how will you stand up to it, when cannon-
balls are coming ; seeing you never fired at anything
more dangerous than rabbits ? But when the fighting
had begun, there was so much shouting, and march-
ing, and confusion, that I was more bewildered than
afraid. Then the smoke covered us and the British,
too; so that I did n't see many fall. I cheered as loud
as the rest, and forgot all about the danger, till the
battle was over, and we had time, in our tents, to
think of the poor fellows who had been killed."

"The British couldn't stand before our men," con-
tinued Black, " when we were all together. Washing-
ton kept in front, waving his hat, at tjimes, to cheer
his troops to do their duty. The enemy tried to
drive us back, through the woods ; but we stood our
ground, pouring a heavy fire into them without
ceasing, and encouraging each other with loud shouts.
They next tried to take our artillery; and, for a
short time, the ridge on which it stood was hid behind
fire and smoke ; so rapid were the discharges. The
British were driven back in confusion ; and, at that
moment, we gave them another volley of musketry,
which at once broke their line ; Washington pushed
after them with his cavalry, when they fled in all
directions, and were soon followed by two other regi-
ments, that were near Princeton. Washington then

AT SKIPPACK CKEEK. .- 139

despatched a party, to break down the bridge ; and
afterwards, with his whole army, entered the town."

"What became of Mercer's body?" enquired one
of the party

"After he was bayoneted by the British, he re-
mained on the field — not dead, but mortally wounded.
When the battle was over. Major Armstrong found
him on the ground, insensible from the cold, and with
all his wounds frozen stiif. The major and his men
carried their general to Clark's farm-house, where he
was laid upon a bed. Two young Quaker women
attended him, and did all they could to ease his suf-
ferings. While they were dressing his wounds, a
party of British approached, and Mercer advised the
Americans to fly. The general was made prisoner,
but he died the next day. This British party was a
detachment from Lord Cornwallis's army. When he
found out, in the morning, that Washington had es-
caped, he retreated so fast towards Brunswick, that
he reached Princeton just as our rear parties were
leaving it.

" When his excellency started from the Assanpink,
he designed marching at once to Brunswick, where
the British had large stores of ammunition, provi-
sions, and clothing, without much of a guard. But
the battle at Princeton had hindered him ; and now,
since CornwalHs was so near, he began to think of
the condition of his men. We had n t slept any for

140 THE CAMP-FIRE

two nights, nor tasted food since the morning before.
Some were so weak and tired, that they had to be
supported by their companions; and if Cornwallis
had attacked us while in this condition, the whole
army would have been cut to pieces. Washington
therefore turned aside from his first route, and pro-
ceeded, as fast as he could, first to Kingston, and then
to Pluckemin. Every bridge we crossed was torn up,
to stop the enemy's pursuit. We learned afterwards,
that the British did n't dream of pursuing ; for they
were very much alarmed, on hearing of the battle at
Princeton.

" When our men reached Pluckemin, some of them
fell down in the woods, and could not be roused,
although the weather was bitter cold. They were
carried into quarters, half dead, rather than asleep.
The others sat down on the ground, waiting for fires
to be kindled, and the food to be dealt out. They
tore the bread and meat like wild beasts, and then
fell asleep. Many caught colds and other diseases,
from which they did n't recover all winter ; and none
of us were able to march straight for more than a
week."

'' Why did n't the British cross the river to Phila-
delphia, then, when they had so good a chance?'*
enquired Whilden.

" Their chance was n't so good," Black answered.
" Sometimes there was too much ice for boats to row

AT SKIPPACK CREEK. 141

against ; and when the river did happen to be frozen
across, the ice was too weak to bear an army. Neither
had the British any notion of making the attempt.
They thought Washington's army was a great deal
larger than it really was ; and all the garrisons which
had lined the river-side, before Christmas, left their
quarters, and hurried as fast as they could toward
New York. Besides, you know Washington soon
went into his winter's camp, at Morristown ; and here
he watched them close enough all winter, ready to
march down and attack their rear, the moment they
made any such attempt.

" It was at Morristown, that we got full informa-
tion of the sufferings of the poor inhabitants, while
they were under British rule. They had been pro-
mised security if they remained in their own houses ;
and as great numbers did so, General Howe gave
them papers, which he called ^protections.' They
were to show them to the soldiers, if they came to
their houses ; after doing which, Howe pretended the
people who had these papers would not be injured.
But, as soon as Washington had been driven across
the Delaware, the British and Hessians spread them-
selves over the whole country, to . hunt for plunder.
Every house that they came across was robbed ; the
fowls were seized and put into Ijags ; and not an ox,
horse, or cow, was left in the barn-yard. Wlicn the
farmers showed their papers, the Hessians laughed,

142 THE CAMP-FIRE

and swore in Dutch ; and the British would n't read
them, because they said they had as much right as
any one, to have some of the plunder. If the people
weren't tories, their chairs, tables, and other little
articles, were piled together and burned ; the windows
and doors were broken to pieces ; and men, women,
and children, beat and abused. Hundreds were
stripped naked, and turned into the woods ; and, in
different places, such horrible cruelties were com-
mitted by these savages, that our blood boiled when
w^e heard of them. Sad it would have been for our
country, if they had got to Philadelphia, before the
battle of Trenton ; but you see, soldiers, Providence
did n't allow it. There would have been a rising in
the Jerseys, at any rate ; for the inhabitants could n't
endure their sufferings much longer. Many of them
had to live in the woods, in the coldest weather ; for
their houses had been burned down, and the savage
Hessians were hunting for them in all directions. In
some places, the inhabitants had nothing to eat ex-
cept roots, and potatoes, so bad that they had been
kept for hogs. But, as soon as the enemy had been
defeated, the people flew to arms. For some weeks,
they came pouring into camp, swearing vengeance
against their oppressors. They never, they said,
would show quarter to a Hessian ; and, in spite of
the general's orders, they cut many a prisoner's throat,
in the woods. This was one thin«: that struck terror

AT SKIPPACK CREEK

143

into the British ; for they knew that when the people
they had abused should once rise, there would be no
mercy shown them. It was the remembrance of these
outrages, that made the militia fight like veterans;
and in a few weeks we cleared nearly all the Jerseys
of the British and Hessians."

Such was the young soldier's narrative of the winter
campaign in New Jersey.

V

V^v^

-m^^w

THE CAMP-FIRE AT GEEMANTOWN.

Towards the close of a pleasant day, in the autumn
of 1777, there might have been seen, sitting by a fire,
in the camp at Germantown, three veteran ofiicers of
the American army. One appeared, by his attitude
and gestures, to be entertaining the other two with a
recital of some adventure which he had witnessed.
Let us listen to their conversation.

"Ah!" said Captain Peterson, the narrator, "I
remember him well — that brave young soldier, Ar-
thur Stewart. I will tell you what I know of his
history ; it will serve to pass away the time."

His companions drew their camp-stools nearer the
fire, evidently expecting a rare treat; for Captain
Peterson was celebrated for his good stories, and was
as fond of "spinning a long yarn," as a sailor; but
his narratives were generally strictly true.

"Arthur Stewart, poor boy," began the Captain,
" was born and reared in the old Bay State — a State
worthy to claim such a native. He manifested, very
early in life, a fearless and warlike disposition. He

(144)

THE CAMP-FIRE AT GERMANT0T7N. 145

accordingly joined a company of volunteers, at the
beginning of the war, in the year '75, and is in the
army now, I believe, but I can't tell where he is
stationed. When he first enlisted, he was in that
division of the army, which was under the command
of General Putnam. Captain Wetherbe commanded
the company to which he belonged. The captain
well understood the w^arlike merits of the stripling ;
but Stewart was not personally known to Putnam —
indeed, it would have been mere luck and chance, if
he had been. He had already signalized himself in
two or three hard-fought battles ; and, but for his
extreme youth, would, at the time of which I am
about to speak, have been promoted to the rank of
ensign, or lieutenant. The incidents which I am
about to relate, occurred just on the eve of the battle
at White Plains.

^' The British army was encamped within two miles
of the Americans. The two armies had been watch-
ing each other's movements for several days, without
coming to a general engagement. At length, one
evening, both armies were making the necessary
preparations for the night's rest; expecting, on the
morrow, to try the precarious fortunes of a general
en^-agcment. The captains of the several companies
had already designated thuse who were to stand guard
during the night, except Captain Wetherbe, who had
eelected all hi.^, with the exception of one. lie wat*
13 K

146 THE CAMP-FIRE

busily engaged in looking through his company, for a
soldier to fill the vacancy, when, as good or bad for-
tune I don't know which — would have it. General

Putnam passed that way. As he approached, the
captain was in the act of calling Arthur Stewart, a
beardless boy then, from the ranks, to act as a sen-
tinel during the night. The general, with mingled
emotions of surprise and anger, stepped up to the
captain, and taking him a little on one side, said :
^Captain Wetherbe, what is the meaning of this?
Are you so thoughtless and imprudent as to select
this boy for a sentinel? a boy who has just left his
leading-strings, to discharge the most responsible
duties of a soldier ! You know that the British army
is almost within musket-shot of the American lines !
Are we not in imminent danger of being attacked to-
night? or, at least, of having the British spies disco-
vering our movements ? I beg you to look a little to
this matter.' ^Your fears are entirely groundless,'
replied Wetherbe. ' I know the boy ; and I would be
willing to sleep under the very guns of a British fort,
with Arthur Stewart to watch over me. There 's not
another soldier in my company, I would choose sooner
than him — either for sentinel, or anything else. I
am certain that he will do his duty to-night.' ' Do
as you please, then,' answered Putnam ; ' I have con-
fidence in your judgment ;' and he turned, and walked
away.

AT GERMANTOWN. 147

^^It SO happened^ that this conversation, though
intended to be carried on aside, was overheard by
Stewart, and several others. I do n't know how it is,
but there is an unaccountable sensibility in the organ
of hearing, whenever we suspect we are ourselves the
subject of remark — especially animadversion.

"Stewart had taken his post as sentinel, during
the first part of the night. It so happened that Gen-
eral Putnam had occasion to pass outside the lines.
On his way, he did not encounter Arthur Stewart,
but another sentinel ; who, ascertaining that it was
the general, immediately allowed him to pass. After
being absent a short time, he made towards the lines,
as though he intended to return. In his course, he
encountered Stewart. ^Who goes there?' enquired
the sentinel. ^General Putnam,' was the reply.
^We know no General Putnam here,' Stewart an-
swered. ' But / am General Putnam,' returned that
person; by this time growing somewhat earnest.
' Give me the countersign,' returned Stewart. It so
happened, that the general had somewhat unaccount-
ably forgotten what the countersign was ; or at least
could not, at the moment, call it to mind. ^I have
forgotten it,' was the reply. ' This is a pretty story
from the lips of General Putnam. You are a British
officer, sent over here as a spy,' returned Stewart, who
was well aware that he was addressing Putnam ; for
the moon was shining brightly and revealed the

148 THE CAMP-FIRE

features of the general ; but he had the staff in his
own hand, and he meant to use it. ' I warrant you,
I am not/ said the general ; and he attempted to pass
on. ' Pass that line, Sir, and you are a dead man !'
exclaimed Stewart, at the same time cocking his gun.
^Stop where you are, or I'll make you stop!' con-
tinued the sentinel, as the general disregarded his
first notice. Hastily raising his gun to his shoulder,
and taking a somewhat deliberate aim, he pulled the
trigger ; but, from some reason or other, the discharge
did not follow. 'Hold! hold!' exclaimed Putnam.
•=1 do hold,' was the reply. 'The gun holds its
charge a great deal better than I intended it should ;'
immediately priming his musket for a second trial.
' You are not priming that gun for me ?' asked Put-
nam, anxiously. 'That depends entirely upon cir-
cumstances. I warn you, once more, not to pass
those lines.' 'But I am your general,' continued
Putnam. 'I deny it, unless you give the counter-
sign.' Here the general was at fault. He strove to
recall the important word; but all was in vain.
' Boy,' said he, ' do you not know me ? I am General
Putnam.' 'A British officer, more like. If you are
Putnam, as you say, why don't you give me the
countersign ? So sure as I 'm my mother's son, if you
attempt to pass the lines, I '11 make cold-meat of you.
I 'm a sentinel. I know my duty ; though there are
Home people in the world, who are marvellously in-

GENERAL PUTNAM AM> iiii. oilNTINEL.

AT GERMANTOWN. 149

clined to question it.' At this, Putnam, finding that
further parley would be useless, desisted; and the
boy, deliberately shouldering his musket, began, with
a great deal of assumed haughtiness, to pace the
ground as before.

" Here was the redoubtable General Putnam, the
hero of a hundred battles, kept at bay by a stripUng
of seventeen ! This scene, in my humble judgment,
would have been a fine subject for a painter's pencil.
Putnam, finding that the boy was in earnest — for he
had had alarming proof of it — durst not, for his life,
proceed a step further. , He waited until Stewart was
relieved ; when the other-sentinel, finding he was, in
truth. General Putnam, allowed him to pass without
giving the countersign. But the general's feelings
were terribly excited. He knew, in his inmost soul,
that the boy had done nothing but his duty ; still, he
felt that he had been most egregiously insulted.
Had Stewart permitted him to pass without giving
the countersign, and he had proved to be a British
spy, the boy, according to the rules of war, would
have been shot for his negligence. This was the
manner in which Putnam's intellect reasoned; but
his feelings by no means coincided with it. It is a
terrible warfiire, when a man's feelings come to an
open rupture with his sound judgment; and such
cases arc by no means rare.

" General Putnam had determined, on returning to
13*

150 THE CAMP-FIRE

his quarters, to punish the boy severely ; but, after a
little calm reflection on the subject, he felt somewhat
differently about it. A sense of honor and justice
returned ; and, sending for the boy on the morrow,
he thus addressed him : ' You are the lad who stood
sentinel, on the left wing of the army, last night, I
believe ?' ' I am,' replied Stewart. ' Did you know
the man who encountered you, while at your post V
continued the general. ^ I suspected who he might
be,' returned the boy. ' Then why did you not per-
mit him to pass ?' enquired Putnam, rather sharply.
^I should have forfeited the reputation of being a
vigilant sentinel, had I done so,' replied Stewart,
without any hesitation. ' That 's right,' said the gen-
eral; ^you did just as I myself would have done,
had I been in your place. We have nothing to fear
from the British, or any other enemy, with such
soldiers as you. Discipline is the soul of an army I'
and taking from his purse a piece of gold, he pre-
sented it to the boy ; at the same time charging him
never to forfeit the character he had already acquired.
Arthur was, shortly afterwards, promoted to the rank
of ensign."

"A fine fellow, that same Arthur Stewart!" ejacu-
lated one of his auditors, after Captain Peterson had
concluded.

" My sentiments exactly," replied the captain.
"He will yet distinguish himself, I warrant; for

AT GERMANTOWN

151

he has every qualification requisite in a soldier, and I
should not wonder in the least, at hearing that he
had signalized himself at Saratoga; for that is where
I think he must be at this time, with General Gates s
army."

Gcoeral Patum.

Washington's Head-Quarters at Valley Forge.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE.

The name of Valley Forge will long be remem-
bered, as one of the remarkable places of the Eevolu-
tion. It is situated about twenty miles from the city
of Philadelphia. When, on the 18th of December,
1777, Washington gave orders to establish a fortified
camp on this spot, which is bounded, on one side, by
the river Schuylkill, and on the others by ridges of
hills, the ground was covered with woods. The trees
were felled, and huts constructed of the logs; the
dimensions of each being sixteen feet by fourteen.-
One hut was assigned to twelve privates; and one
to a smaller number of officers, according to their
rank. These rude dwellings were arranged in
parallel lines, where the shape of the ground would
admit ; and, when the encampment was completed, it
had the appearance of a town, with streets and ave-

(152)

THE CAMP-FIRE AT YALLEY FORGE. 153

nues. The soldiers from the same State, inhabited
the same street or quarter. The whole encampment
was surrounded, on the land side, by intrenchments ;
and a bridge was thrown across the river, to establish
a communication with the country in that direction.

Here it was that the American army underwent
sufferings such as have scarcely a parallel in military
history. On their march to the spot, over the hard,
frozen ground, such was their destitute condition,
with respect to clothing, that they presented a pitiable
spectacle ; and their course might have been traced
on the ground, by the blood drawn from their bare
feet upon the march. While hutted at Valley Forge,
at one time, no less than 2898 men were unfit for
duty, because barefoot, and otherwise naked; and
this, be it remembered, in the depth of winter. Only
eighty-two hundred men, fit for duty, could have been
mustered to resist the attack of General Howe's
numerous and well-appointed army, had that officer
seen fit to march but twenty miles from his comfort-
able quarters in Philadelphia, for the purpose of
trying the fortune of war.

Washington's letters, written at this dark period of
the war, disclose not only the melancholy fiicts of the
case, but the causes from which they resulted; namely,
the inertness of Congress, the apathy of the people,
and the wretched system, or rather no system, of
supplies, which prevailed at that time. He remarks,

154 THE CAMP-FIRE

in one of these letters : " Upon the ground of safety
and policy, I am obliged to conceal the true state of
the army from public view, and thereby expose my-
self to calumny and detraction."

Incapacity in the commissariat department of the
army is glaringly apparent, from the fact, that, at the
very time when the army was suffering so severely
for ^yant of clothing, hogsheads of shoes, stockings,
and other wearing apparel, intended for the soldiers,
were lying at different places, upon the road and in
the woods, useless, for want of teams and proper
management, and of ready money, to pay the team-
sters for their transportation.

On a certain night, in the middle of this disastrous
winter, in one of the huts appointed for the accom-
modation of the Massachusetts line, three men might
be seen sitting around a fire, and discoursing on the
events of the war, by way of beguiling the dreary
hours of darkness. These men were literally com-
pelled to sit up by the fire all night, for want of a
sufficient supply of blankets to accommodate the
whole twelve who occupied the hut. The other nine,
having blankets, could sleep ; and, on the next night,
three of them would have to take their turn of
watching.

They conversed in a low tone, so as not to disturb
the sleepers in the surrounding bunks, or berths ; but,
occasionally, exciting themes raised their voices, till

AT VALLEY FORGE. 155

a warning snort, from some half-awakened sleeper,
would remind them of their want of caution ; and
then their tones would sink into a stern whisper.

" I say, Ira Lawrence," said one of these soldiers,
John Downing by name, a stalwart fellow, standing
some six and a half feet without shoes ; " I say, Ira,
what would our friends in Groton think, if they could
know what we are doing, and what we are suffering
at this blessed minute ?"

" I guess," replied Ira, " they would think we were
tarnation fools for 'listing in the army at all. I do n't
care, though, what they might think. I aint a-going
to write home about it. My old man told me I might
go ; though I was only nineteen, and he wanted me
desputly on the farm ; and I won't make him and
mother uneasy, by teUing tales out o' school. We 're
in for it now, and I go for facing it out as a man

ought to."

"Well said, Ira, — well said!" replied Downing.
" You 're a little fellow ; but you 'vc got the real grit
in you. You 're a regular full-blooded Yankee, and
an honor to the Bay State, though you're but just
tall enough to pass muster. I like your sentiment ;
I honor your spunk !"

" It's mighty aggrivoking, though," said Joe Shaw,
the third man of the party ; a raw-boned, keen-looking
fellow, of middling stature, in a ragged uniform, and
three-cornered hat, seldom removed from his head;

156 THE CAMP-FIRE

*^ yes, it is a leetle too prevoking to think how nicely
them tarnal red-coats are enjoying themselves in theif
snug quarters in the city, while we, the rightful
owners of this here sile, have to sit up all night, over
a fire of pitch-pine knots, for want of blankets to
sleep in ! It is a leetle too much for human patience
to stand."

" Well," said Ira, " it is hard. That 's a fact. But
it 's a great comfort to me, to know that we are bound
to pitch it into 'em pretty strong, next spring. We '11
make 'em suffer !"

" Do n't you think," said Joe, " that the army will
be in a nice, suitable ^ frame of mind,' as Deacon
Tibbets calls it, for fighting, next spring, if this freez-
ing and starving goes on all winter ?"

" Well," replied Ira, with a long, slender, nasal
drawl, '^ I guess they will. I feel as if I could kill a
red-coat, and eat him, too, this minute."

'^ I like your sentiment, Ira," said John Downing,
stretching out his herculean arms, and bringing his
fists together with a crushing blow ; at the same time,
grinning a formidable defiance, and hissing out an
"Ah! ah! hah! Wouldn't I like to have here, at
arm's length before me, any one of the murdering
blackguards, that gave the people so much trouble
over in Jarsey, last winter, burning, plundering,
and ravishing ! If I stay here in these clearings
for one thing more than another, it is for the chance

AT YALLEY FORGE. 157

of a dig at some of those infernal villains, with my
bagonet!"'^-

" With them etarnal long arms of yourn/' said Ira,
" you could stick a grenadier half a mile off, and lift
him clean over your head. You must be a mighty
ugly customer, John, in a bagonet skrimmage. Have
you had much practice in that ^air' line?"

"I have had some, I guess, before you j'ined our
company. There was that kick-up we had about the
oxen, last fall, over on t' other side of the Jarseys.
Did n't I never tell ye about that ?"

^^ Never a word," replied Joe.

'' Well, that was warm work, I guess," rejoined the
tall soldier.

'^ Pray tell us all about it," said Joe.

" Well, it 's a long story, and we must have some
more pitch-knots on the fire, before I begin 3" and, at
the word, both of John's comrades hastened to heap
more wood on the fire. This done, they assumed the
most comfortable sitting posture for listening, while
Long John stood up at his full length, before the
blazing light of the pitch-knots, and commenced his
narrative.

"It was in the airly part of last fall — in Septem-
ber, I guess — when I was one of a detachment of light

* All of the Coiitincnt;il rank and file with whom the writer has
conversed, used this pronunciation for 'bayonet;' and they called a
three-cornered hat, a ' bagonet-hat.'

14

158 THE CAMP-FIRE

infantry, some three thousand strong, that General
Washington had sent to guard some fat cattle, that
had been bought by the commissary, for the army.
I vow, Ira, I wish we had one of them same oxen
here now, for our mess !

" Oh, go ahead with your story," said Ira, " and let
the mess alone."

" Well, as I was saying, these cattle were feeding
on a piece of intervale land ; I guess there was about
three hundred acres in the lot, with all the timber
and wood cleared off; and it lay between a piece of
thick woods and the river."

" What river ?" enquired Ira.

" Why, the North Eiver, to be sure. I told you it
was on the other side of Jarsey, right over against
York State."

^^ Oh, yes, I understand," returned Ira ; " but who
commanded the detachment ?"

" Who but the Marquis de La Fayette !" was the
answer.

" Du tell !" exclaimed Ira, with wide-open eyes and
mouth.

" Well ! I never !" ejaculated Joe ; these exclama-
tions expressing the very acme of Yankee astonish-
ment.

"You never told us before, that you had been in a
fight under the Marquis."

^* Well;" returned John, " if you will only shut up

AT VALLEY FORGE. 159

your etarnal clam-sliells, I'll tell ye all about it, now.
We '11 never have a better chance ; for we 've got the
whole night before us; and we may be frozen or
starved to death, before our turn comes round to
watch again."

" Go aheadj then — go ahead."

"Well, as I was a-saying, our detachment was
stationed about five miles from the intervale lot that
I spoke of, where the cattle were being pastured ; and
our business was to see that the cattle were not stolen
away by the enemy. The intervale, you understand,
was on a point of land running out into the river ;
and our men were on the neck ; so that the cattle
could n't have been reached, from the land-side, with-
out a bit of a brush with us."

" But the regulars could come in sloops and trans-
ports," said Ira.

" Yes, you may say that," replied John ; " and they
were always mighty hungry after fat beef But you
shall hear the upshot of the business. One morning,
just about the break of day, I was standing sentry,
on the side of our encampment next to the cattle,
which, as I said before, were full five miles from
where we lay. I was thinking about home, and cal-
culating that father might be pretty well through
with harvesting his winter rye, when I heard some
fellow trotting along over the ground pretty consider-
able hard, and coming right towards me. I hailed

160 THE CAMP-FIRE

him just as lie came out of the bushes. ^Who goes
there ?' ^ A friend/ says he. ^Advance and give the
countersign !' says I. ^ I do n't know the countersign ;
but the regulars is landing from the river ; and if you
do n't make haste, they '11 carry off all your fat cattle,
in their launches !' By this time, the man, who was
a Jarsey countryman, was standing right before me.
Seeing he was a little fellow, not more than five feet
ten, I just grabbed him by the collar, with my right
hand, and cocked and discharged my piece in the air,
with my left.

" ' Now,' says I, ^ my good fellow, if what you say
is true, you '11 get rewarded for your news ; but if
you 've been giving a false alarm, you '11 catch it, or
my name's not Jack Downing.' ^It's as true as
preaching,' said the countryman.

'^ In fi.YQ minutes, the guard was upon us in force.
They carried off the fellow to the Marquis's quarters ;
and, in fifteen minutes more, our regiment was ordered
to march down to the point in double-quick time.
Our colonel was Eufus Putnam, a nephew of the gen-
eral."

" What — Old Put ?" enquired Ira.

" Old Put, himself. This nephew is a chip of the
old block, too, I can tell you ; as cool as a peach, and
as wide awake, when the smell of gunpowder is
about, as Old Put himself. We were mustered in a
hurry, and the way we marched over that five miles

AT VALLEY FORGE. 161

of rough ground, was a caution to continentallers 1
It was n't running ; but it was a sample of the tallest
kind of walking that ever I experienced ; and you
know I aint slow at that exercise."

" When we had got pretty near to the edge of the
woods, the colonel ordered the adjutant to go forward
and see where the regulars were, and how many they
mustered. The adjutant came back pretty soon, and
reported that they were forming, on the shore, in
three columns ; and that each of the columns, as near
as he could calculate, was about a thousand strong.
The colonel rose right up in his stirrups, and pointing
back with his sword, he says, ' Then ride back to the
camp, as fast as you can go, and tell Lafayette to
come on !' Off went the adjutant, like an arrow from
King Philip's bow, and Colonel Putnam rode right up
to my captain. It was Captain Daniel Shays — a
good officer, and a right clever man to his soldiers.
' Well, Captain Shays,' says he, ' shall we be a-playing
with them a little, till the general comes ?' ' That
must be as you please,' was our captain's answer.

" In a minute after, we were ordered to advance
out of the woods, to the open land upon the point.
Here we could see the whole force of the enemy, and
the whole game the rascally red-coats were playing.
There were their three thousand men, all ready to
steal our fiit cattle, and carry them off, or to shoot us
down, if we said * Nay.'

14 '^ L

1G2 THE CAMP-FIRE

'' Pretty soon we received some volleys of musketry
from the regulars, and the cannon from the shipping
began to roar. Says I to myself, ^Jack Downing^
you'll never see old Groton again; for there are
regulars enough to eat up your regiment without
salt.' But Colonel Putnam rode back and forth, be-
fore his regiment, as cool and as calm as though he
was only parading us for inspection, while the balls
were whistling about our ears in every direction.

"At length we commenced ; and we worked mighty
fast, boys, I can tell ye ; and, for one regiment, made
a pretty considerable noise. That loading and firing,
to keep an enemy, five or six times your number, in
check, is rayther warm work. Presently, the corporal
at my left hand was shot right through the body,
and fell at my feet. There he lay, — bleeding, gasp-
ing, dying. I had never seen a man killed so near
me before, and I must say I felt kind of streaked.
Captain Shays stepped forward, close to me. ' John,'
says he, ' never mind it ; I will take his place ;' and
he was as good as his word. He took the corporal's
gun, and began blazing away with it, at the enemy,
as cool as if he was beginning a day's work, in the
haying season. I always liked that Captain Shays.
He was the best captain I have ever served under
yet. He is bold to the enemy, and always kind to
his men. He stood shoulder to shoulder with me,
through the rest of that fight.

AT YALLEY FORGE. ibJ

" I was loading my gun for the twenty-second time,
when General Lafayette, with the main body of the
infantry, came dashing out of the woods in our rear.
Never shall I forget the feeling of that moment, when
I first heard the sound of their old continental drums !
'Now, John,' said Captain Shays, 'we'll give it to
them 1'

" The main body formed at once on our left ; —
coming up beautifully into line, all eager for the fray.
Lafayette rode along in front of our line. He is a
splendid officer ; and never did he so completely fill
my eye, as at that moment. Though he is slight —
a mere stripling in appearance — his eye is full of
fire, and his motions are all alert, and full of soldierly
spunk and decision.

"As he came near to the colonel of our regiment,
he said : —

"'Colonel Putnam, how dare you fire before I
arrived ?'

'"Oh," said the colonel, "I thought I would be
playing with them, a little.'

" Lafayette at that moment seemed full of energy
and fire. Turning towards the Ihic, with a loud and
distinct voice, he gave the order : —

" ' We fire ? — no ! Let the whole line charge bag-
Qnets ! — Rush on, and drive them into the river !'

"At these words, the boys seemed to feel the
breath of a new life breathed into them. We did

164 THE CAMP-FIRE AT YALLEY FORGE.

rush on, with bagonets levelled ; and such a horrible
carnaire I never saw.

"At first, the British charged to meet us ; but they
couldn't stand against the Yankee boys that day.
The reinforcement of fresh troops, added to our regi-
ment, who had already shown that we could keep
them at bay, seemed to strike a sort of panic into
them ; and when our line struck theirs, and we were
all engaged, they fairly turned tail, and ran with all
their might for the shore, in hopes to escape to their
boats. We were not slow in following them, and we
drove them pell-mell into the water. Hundreds that
escaped our bagonets, were drowned before their boats
could take them up; and, out of the whole three
thousand men who landed on the point that morning,
full of hope and courage, and hungry for our fat
beeves, scarcely fifteen hundred made out to get on
board of the vessels !

" Now, boys, you Ve heard a great deal of bragging
about the British bagonet. Here was a fair stand-up
fight, of equal numbers ; and that was the way we
walked into British soldiers, with the American bag-
onet 1"

THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITE MARSH.

After the disastrous repulse of the American
forces, at Germantown, they encamped in a strong
position, at a place called Whitemarsh, about fourteen
miles from Philadelphia. Here, after the hard service
of the campaign, the soldiers were glad to secure a
little rest. The winter was coming on, and they
suffered beyond description, from the want of clothes
and shoes ; even provision and forage were obtained
with difficulty ; it being sometimes necessary to pro-
cure them by coercive measures, which Washington,
with his usual judgment, was loth to make use of
His army had received several reinforcements from
the north ; but Washington determined not to meet
Sir William Howe, who had also received a reinforce-
ment from New York, and was anxious for another
battle. He kept the position he had chosen, but sent
out light infantry to skirmish with the enemy, who
took post at Chestnut Hill, about three miles from
the right of the American camp, and manoeuvred, for
tliree days, in the front and on the flanks of our army.

(165)

IGG THE CAMP-FIRE

It is one of these parties of skirmishers who will
now engage our attention. The company consisted
of about a hundred men^ and had been detached from
a larger force. Night had overtaken them in the
midst of their service ; and it being too dark to pro-
ceed any further with safety, they encamped for the
night, on the edge of a wood. Great precautions
were taken, to prevent the party from being disco-
vered by the enemy; but, in consequence of the
intense cold, it was necessary to have fires, to keep
life in the men. Accordingly, a large fire was made
at some distance in the wood, in such a manner, that
it could not be seen by persons out of it. The whole
party, by cutting down some of the small trees around
the fire, made themselves comfortable positions near
it, while two of their number were stationed on the
edge of the wood, as sentinels. These were to be
changed every two hours during the night, in order
to give a share of the burden to each. The party
around the fire seated themselves, and partook of the
scant fare vrhich they had with them ; after which,
those who were nearest the fire tried to snatch a little
repose. The sentinels warmed themselves thoroughly,
and having borrowed some little addition to their poor
clothing, which their generous comrades could not
refuse, they repaired to their post. They were a
singular-looking set of men — these soldiers — with
their ragged dress and gaunt forms. Their sufferings

AT TTHITEMARSH.

1G7

were expressed too well in their faces ; but, amidst
them all, they still had that love for their country,
that hatred of tyranny, and that undaunted courage,
which, in the end, made them triumph over the best-
disciphned and the best-equipped armies. But it is
the conversation of the two sentinels which must now
interest us.

It was a bitter cold night, and the two men paced
up and down, over the frozen ground, flapping their
arms against their sides, to keep the blood in circula-
tion ; their muskets being occasionally laid upon the
ground, as a troublesome incumbrance. The night
was very dark, and the wind whistled through the
branches of the trees, which creaked in harsh accom-
paniment.

" John," said one of the sentinels to his comrade,
at length, " what would you give for a bowl of hot
coffee, and a pleasant Are, such a night as this ?"

" Phew !" replied John, " do n't talk about it. I 'd
almost give victory to the English, in the next battle
we have with them ; and that's about the most valu-
able thing I know of, just now."

"I was thinkiu' how it would go down; and the
very thought of such fare, almost makes me a traitor,"
continued the other. '' P>ut, ])y the bye, a victory
to the English is something we could n't aflbrd to give
just now, after tliat murderous affair at German-
town/*

168 THE CAMP-FIKE

" Well, Bob/' said John, " if there had been a few
more men at Brand jwine, and had those that were
there been in a little better trim, there would n't have
been any affair at Germantown."

"Ah!" Bob replied, "there's a Providence in all
these things, depend upon it."

" You were sick at the time most of the fighting
was done ; were n't you ?" enquired John.

"Yes; but I've heard most of the particulars
since," was the reply.

" Though we were whipped in the end, there was
some tough fightin' done there, mind I tell you," said
John. "You ought to have seen young Lafayette —
the French general that's just appointed."

" They say he 's not of age yet," returned Bob. " I
do n't think it was quite right, to appoint a mere boy
a major-general, when there's plenty of older and
more experienced men in the army."

"Yes," answered John; "but you must recollect
what he has sacrificed for the sake of our cause ; be-
sides, if you had seen him that day, you wouldn't
think that Congress had gone far wrong, in appointing
him a major-general."

" Well, if you saw him, let me hear what he did,
and I '11 tell you, afterwards, what I think of him,"
said Bob. " But let us walk a little quicker, for my
limbs are getting stiff.'

*' Well, d'ye see," commenced John, quickening

AT WHITEMARSH

169

his pace, and blowing upon his hands to warm them,
" I was with the troops under his command that day.
The whole detachment was commanded by General
'Sullivan. When we got wind of the crossin of the
Brandywine by Cornwallis, and that he had posted
himself on the heights there, near Birmingham
meetin'-house, we marched to meet him. We had
just arrived there, and General Sullivan was formin'
his line for battle, when the whole of Cornwallis's
force rushed down on us. We fought there for a
while like men ; but they soon broke our right, and
the lines were thrown into confusion. The men were
all retreatin as fast as they could, when Lafayette,
the young French general, rode in among 'em, and
with his sword raised, and eyes that looked as if he
felt ashamed to see them run, tried to persuade 'em
to stop ; but no, the British were on them in a hurry,
and they either could n't or would n't. Then, — I '11
never forget it,— that ' boy,' as you called him, showed
how much man there was in him. He threw himself
from his horse, and rallied some few men, who were
ashamed to run, like himself, and took a stand. A
few more rallied to support him, and I was among
'em. We fought there like bull-dogs, with the red-
coated bulls, and kept 'em at bay, too. But there
was too many for us, and we could n t stand it long.
Just then, Lafayette, who was fightin' among the men,
like the rest of 'cm, got a wound in the leg ; but he
15

170 THE CAMP-FIRE

still kept on, and if we had bad any support, we 'd
have come off with a victory. Several of the men
ran and caught the brave young general, and bore
him away with us, or he would have been taken
prisoner."

"Well, that was a brave beginnin' for a young
officer, that's a fact," said Bob, as his companion
paused. "Accordin to the tales they tell, there was
many a brave thing done that day."

" Yes," replied John, " I have heard tell, that Mad
Anthony fought like a lion. He commanded the
division at the ford, where Knyphausen crossed. His
one division there fought one-half the British army.
But he only fought as he always does. Mad Anthony
never gives ground without fightin' for it."

" The cause of the loss of that battle was n't in the
want of pluck in the men, or of skill in the officers,
I believe," remarked Bob.

" No," John replied, " it was that infernal lie about
the movements of the red-coats, that did it. If
Washington's first orders, in regard to crossin' the
Brandywine, had been carried out, without payin' any
attention to the contradictory news, the battle would
have had a different end ; but Cornwallis Was left to
cross the Brandywine without bein' molested, and
then there was no hope for us."

"Well," said Bob, with his usual consolatory re-
mark, " I suppose it was to be so."

AT WHITE MARSH. ITl

By this time, the two sentinels were nearly chilled
through, and it needed all their exertions, of trotting
up and down, blowing their fingers, and flapping their
arms, to keep them from freezing. However, the two
hours were soon up ; and they hastened to the fire as
soon as they were relieved. Part of the men were
asleep near the fire ; some with their heads in the
laps of their comrades, and others on scraps of blan-
kets, which they had with them. The rest were
seated on logs, in small groups, talking about their
adventures and sufferings, to keep themselves awake.
One of these groups, close to the fire, our quondam
sentinels joined.

" Well, John," said a lanky individual, lying on his
back on a log, " how did you find the weather, out

there ?"

"Ugh!" ejaculated John, shivering. "Wait till
your turn comes, and you'll soon find out. It'll
freeze all the little morsel of flesh you have on your
bones, off of 'em in a hurry, I know."

"What were you fellows talking about just as we
come in ?" said Bob, after a pause.

" Oh ! we were tryin' to beat somethin' into Joe
Hawkins's head ; Init it's no sort of use. You might
as well try to make a block understand," said Lanky
Bill, as he was called.

" Well, what were you tryin' to beat into his head ?"
asked Bob.

172 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Why, we were talkin about the battle at German-
town, the other day, and Joe Hawkins was contendin
that it was Chew's House that caused the defeat, when
it 's plain enough that that little stoppage did n't de-
cide the battle," said Lanky Bill, with a self-satisfied
air.

" No doubt," said Bob, '^ the obstruction olSered at
Chew's House helped considerably to do the business.
But still I think the fog had the most to do with it."

"Where were you that day. Bob?" said John.
" You was n't along with the company, I know."

" I was sick still," said Bob.

" Then you missed a greater fight than you 've ever
seen," said John. " You should have been with us.
You missed seein' the glorious revenge the boys took
for the massacre at Paoli."

" Did they do the thing right ?" asked Bob anxiously.
Bob had but lately recovered from a long spell of sick-
ness.

"Yes, indeed," answered John, "but I'll tell you
all about it, just to keep you awake; for I see your
eyes gettin' stupid-looking. " You see, of course, we
were with the right wing of the army, under our old
commander, Wayne : Sullivan had the command of
the whole wing, which was composed, of the division
of Wayne, the division of Sullivan, and Conway's
brigade. We marched to attack Howe's army at the
upper end of Germantown, and Sullivan and Conway

AT WHITEMARSH. 173

marched to attack them on the South. The fight be*
comin' pretty general, we advanced on the red-coats
with charged bagonets. You see, our boys were a
little savage about that butcherin' at Paoli, and I
think they could have eaten the Britishers right up.
They did n't wait for us -, I have n't the least doubt
they got frightened at our savage looks. They give
way, but soon formed again ; and then we peppered
away at each other like all the world for a spell. The
red-coats again gave way, but bein supported by the
grenadiers, returned to the charge. You see, we had
the enemy's right wing to encounter, while about two-
thirds of our soldiers were too far north to give us any
help. However, we made the want of men up in
pluck, and stuck to 'em till they broke and run pell-
mell ; and then, Bob, you ought to have seen the men.
They did n't show any mercy. I was among 'em, as
bad as any of the rest. The men seemed really mad ;
and when the red-coats would ask for quarter, they 'd
scream in their ears to " remember Paoli," and finish
them at once. The officers were runnin' about, tryin'
to save the poor wretches, but it was n't of much us?e.
Mad Anthony lost his fine roan horse, when we were
close to the enemy, and a spent ball struck him in the
foot, and one grazed his left hand ; but he stuck to
his post on foot, and cheered on the men. The fog
and the smoke made the place almost as dark as night ;
and I come near shootin' Joe Hawkins in mistake for

174 THE CAMP-FIRE

a red-coat. Several of our men were shot in the same
way : you could n't see twenty yards from you. We
pushed on, however, and took possession of their
whole camp ; but here comes the worst of the story,
and I 'd just as leave not tell it."

" Oh ! finish your story, John," said Lanky Bill,
" Bob knows we were defeated, so let him hear how it
was."

" Well, it 's a disagreeable thing to be talkin about
retreatin' after such a fight as we made there ; but I
may as v/ell finish my story. You see v^e were in
possession of the camp of the red-coats, when a large
body of men appeared on our left flank. The fog
bein' so thick, of course we could n't tell whether they
were our own troops or the enemy. The men thought
they were red-coats, and would fall back, in spite of
all the oflicers could do. After we had retreated
about two miles, we found out that they were our own
people, who were comin' up to attack the right wing
of the enemy. After the fog cleared away, Howe
followed us with a large body of foot and light horse,
and Mad Anthony, who was in the rear of the army
pickin' up stragglers, thinkin' it about as well to fight
as run, drew us up in line of battle, and waited till
the enemy come up. We had just a chance to throw
a few cannon-shot into 'em, when the cowardly rascals
run. They may glorify as much as they please about
our loss and repulse, but it was only the weather that

AT WHITEMARSH. 175

kept tliem from gettin' as complete a defeat as they
ever had."

"How was that afiliir at Chew's house?" asked
Bobj interested.

" Oh, that was with the other division ; we had
nothing to do with that/' repHed John.

"Well," continued Bob, "from all that I can hear
about it, it was an ill-advised piece of business. But
it 's not for us to criticise the doin s of our superiors ;
I suppose that we were to be defeated, and that's
enough."

As Bob concluded this usual remark, he stretched
himself out in front of the fire, and there was a
silence of about half an hour. At the expiration of
that time, John, who had been looking in the fire
very intently all the v/hile, musing on home and its
comforts, we suppose, raised his head, to see if his
companions were asleep. Lanky Bill and Joe Haw-
kins, were still awake, but Bob was snoring melo-
diously, in the arms of Morpheus.

" Joe," said John, " give us a song, to keep up our
spirits ; won't you ?"

" Oh, I 'm not in the humor of singin' now," replied
Joe. "Besides, I've got a cold, and my voice is
hoarse."

"That's the usual prelude of all good singers," re-
turned John. "Come, sing us something; never
mind the hoarseness ; and as for your humor, people

176 THE CAMP-FIRE

mustn't wait till they get in a good humor, or else
there 'd be very little of it. Make your humor good."
Those of the party who were awake, joined in the
call for a song ; and Joe at last consented, and sang
the following, to a sort of music like the chanting of
the prose psalms, in cathedrals : —

Since you all will have singing, and won't be said nay,
I cannot refuse, when you so beg and pray;
So, I ^11 sing you a song, — as a body may say,
'Tis of the king's regulars, who ne'er ran away.

the old soldiers of the king, and the king's own regulars.

At Prestonpans we met with some rebels one day,
We nmrshaird ourselves all in comely array;
Our hearts were all stout, and bid our legs stay.
But our feet were wrong-headed, and took us away.

the old soldiers, &c.

At Falkirk we resolved to be braver.

And recover some credit by better behaviour;

"We would not acknowledge feet had done us any favour.

So feet swore they would stand, but — legs ran, however.

the old soldiers, &c.

No troops perform better than we at reviews,
We march and we wheel, and whatever you choose ;
G-eorge would see how we fight, and we never refuse.
There we all fight with courage — you may see 't in the News.

the old soldiers, &a

To Monongahela, with fifes and with drums,
We march'd in fine order, with cannon and bombs ;

AT WniTEMARSH. 177

That great expedition cost infinite sums,
But a few irregulars cut us all into crumbs.

the old soldiers, &C

It was not fair to shoot at us from behind trees :

If they had stood open, as they ought, before our great guns, we should

have beat 'em with ease ;
They may fight with one another that way, if they please,
But it is not regular to stand, and fight with such rascals as these.

the old soldiers, &c.

At Fort George and Oswego, to our great reputation,
"We show'd our vast skill in fortification;
The French fired three guns ; of the fourth they had no occasion ;
For we gave up those forts, — not through fear, but — mere persuasion.

the old soldiers, &c.

To Ticonderoga we went in a passion.
Swearing to be revenged on the whole French nation ;
But we soon turn'd tail without hesitation.

Because they fought behind trees, — which is not the regular fashion.

the old soldiers, &c.

Lord Loudon, he was a regular general, they say ;
With a great regular army ho went his way.
Against Louisburgh, to make it his prey,

But returnM — without seeing it, — for he did not feel bold that day

the old soldiers, &o.

Grown proud at reviews, great George had no rest ;
Each grandsirc, he had heard, a rebellion suppress'd :
He wish'd a rebellion, look'd round and saw none,
8o rcstjlved a rebellion to make — of his own.

the old soldiers, &c.
M

178 THE CAMP-FIRE

The Yankees he bravely pitch'd on, because he thought they would n t

fight,
And so he sent us over to take away their right ;
But lest they should spoil our review-clothes, he cried braver and

louder ;
For God's sake, brother kings, do n't sell the cowards — any powder I

the old soldiers, &c.

Our general with his council of war did advise
How at Lexington we might the Yankees surprise ;
We march' d and remarch'd, all surprised at being beat ;
And so our wise general's plan of surprise was complete.

the old soldiers, &c.

For fifteen miles they foUow'd and pelted us : we scarce had time to

pull a trigger ;
But did you ever know a retreat perform'd with more vigor ?
For we did it in two hours, which saved us from perdition ;
'T was not in going out, but in returning, consisted our expedition.

the old soldiers, &c.

Says our general, " We were forced to take to our arms in our own

defence :''
(For arms read legs, and it will be both truth and sense :)
" Lord Percy, (says he,) I must say something of him in civility,
And that is — I can never enough praise him for his great agility."

the old soldiers, &c.

Of their firing from behind fences he makes a great pother :

Every fence has two sides ; they made use of one. and we only forgot

to use the other :
That we turn'd our backs and ran away so fast, don't let that dis-
grace us;

AT TTHITEAIARSri. 179

'T was only to make good what Sandwich said, that the Yankees could
not face us. the old soldiers, &c.

As they could not get before us, how could they look us in the face ?
We took care they should n't, by scampering away apace.
That they had not much to brag of, is a very plain case j
For if they beat us in the fight, we beat them in the race.

the old soldiers, &c.

The song was lengthy, and the manner in which it
was sung, made it seem twice as long. The rest of
the party couldn't join in the chorus, as it would
have made too much noise, which might have been
taken advantage of by some straggling pa^ty of the
enemy, and have led to their surprise.

'- Where did you get that song from, Joe ?" asked
Lanky Bill; "and where on airth did you come
across the chune ?"

" Oh, I heard it in Philadelphia, and learned it just
to amuse myself"

The whole party agreed that the words of the song
were well enough, but voted the tune a regular bore.
This was but natural ; as they no doubt expected to
hear something livelier. All hands were sinking into
listlessness again, except those whose business it was
to keep up the fire, when the two sentries rushed into
the midst of them, with the intelligence that they
had discovered a small party of the British approach-
ing, who were evidently unconscious of being in the
vicinity of the encampment, and had probably wan-

180 THE CAMP-FIEE AT WHITEMARSH.

dered from some detached party of the enemy, till
night had overtaken them. All the sleepers instantly
sprang to their feet, and some busied themselves in
covering the fire, while all secured their arms, to
await the orders of the captain. The moon had risen
in the meanwhile ; which circumstance, it was, that
gave the sentries an opportunity of seeing the enemy
as they approached. The whole party of Americans
posted themselves near the edge of the wood ; but so
separated, as to let the other party pass between
them, when they would have them in a trap. On
they came, unsuspecting ; their advanced guard beat-
ing about negligently, till, without a forethought of
the consequences, they were fairly in the wood, when
they were instantly surrounded. A voice called out,
" Surrender, or you die !" which staggered the British
for awhile ; but concluding that it was a trick of a
few men, they did not comply. A volley of musketry
brought them to their senses ; and the leader of the
party, seeing the dangerous position they occupied,
called out that he surrendered. The Americans in-
stantly appeared from all sides; thus showing the
enemy that they had been completely surrounded.
Several of them had been wounded, but none killed,
by the volley of musketry sent among them. The
prisoners were all secured, and no further incident
occurred till morning, when they were all marched to
the American camp, at "Whitemarsh.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITE PLAINS

The continental troops encamped at White Plains,
eoon after the battle of Monmouth. There they re-
mained till very late in November, when the severity
of the weather forced them to go into winter quarters
at Middle Brook, in Jersey. White PLains is the place
where Washington encamped in October of 1776, after
the evacuation of New York. The camp was on ele-
vated ground, defended in front by two lines of
intrenchments, nearly parallel to each other, and
Ijetween four and five hundred yards apart. The
right wing rested on the Brunx, which, by making a
short bend, encompassed the flank and part of the rear.
The left wing reached to a pond, or small lake, of some
extent, by which it was effectually secured. Here the
army was encamped from an early day in July to a
late one in autumn of the year 1778.

10 a-'i)

lS2 THE CAMP-FIRE

It was about the middle of November. The night
was cold and dark ; and there was a prospect of snow.
The soldiers were in their tents, and no sound dis-
turbed the hovering stillness of the time, save the
howling of the frost-burdened wind, and the slow,
steady pacing of the sentinels. The severity of the
weather visited the men while still occupying their
canvass tents, and they were forced to endure it as
well as they could. Fires were blazing in every tent,
but they could not more than keep the men from
freezing. Under one of these uncomfortable coverings
four men were sitting round the fire, so close as to be
very nearly scorched by it ) but close as they could
get, every time the wind would shake the tent in its
sweeping through the encampment, a shudder would
follow from the men ; and they would try to get closer
still to the fire. The blaze made the tent look cheer-
ful, however, whether it felt so or not.

'- Luke," said one of the men, " if it 's going to be
as cold as this all night, there 's no sleep for us, that 's
certain."

'- Oh ! I do n't care about the sleep so much ; it 's so
cold it makes one shiver all over when setting as close
on to the fire as you can get," replied Luke.

" Ugh 1" said an individual, known by the name of
Zephaniah, " Its cold enough to freeze a feller into
stone ; or a pound of butter into a brickbat."

" Well, I care about sleeping," said the man who

AT WHITE PLAIXS. 1S3

had spoken first, '' I had a very little bit of a nap last

nio'ht."
<-^

'' You 're a sleepy concern, anyhow. You 're almost
asleep when you 're on duty," said another of the men
who had not yet spoken.

^- 1 can 't help my nature, Jim," replied the lover of
Moi'pheus, '' but the last part of your assertion is as
far from the truth as you generally are."

^* Keep yourself moving, Dick," said Luke, " there 's
nothing like action for getting clear of drowsiness.
I 've seen men use themselves to going without sleep
for three or four days at a time, and not feel any the
worse for it ; but you 're always moping round the
fire. I do n't wonder you 're sleepy."

" There 's not much danger of my goin' to sleep to-
night, anyhow," said Dick, " so, if either of you have
got a yarn to tell, or a song to sing, you can go on
with it. Luke, you 're as good as any body I know,
for doin' either."

'- Yes," said Zephaniah, '' he 's got a voice like a
night 'gale, and can talk as fast and as good as a min-
ister on a Sunday mornin'. So, drive on Luke."

'* Hold on," said Luke. " you must do a little your-
selves. You must n't expect me to do all the labor.
Jim, there, can sing. Let him sing a song first, and
then I '11 go on with my story."

" What shall I sing?" asked Jim.

" Oh, anything, so it 's a song. ' Rule Columbia/

184 THE CAMP-FIRE

' Liberty Tree/ or ^ The American Star.' Or, if you
do n't know any of them, anything else will do," said
Luke.

" Well," said Jim, " I '11 try ' Liberty Tree' ; that 's
a favorite song of mine."

^^And of mine, tu," said Zephaniah." Clear your
pipe, and try to du it as it ought to be done."

Jim was a little hoarse from cold, but had a good,
strong, musical voice. The song he sang was a great
favourite in those days, and is still occasionally sung.
It was written by Thomas Paine, the author of the
* Rights of Man," in 1775. It is as follows : —

In a chariot of light from the regions of day,

The goddess of Liberty came;
Ten thousand celestials directed the way,

And hither conducted the dame.
A fair budding branch from the gardens above,

"Where millions with millions agree,
She brought in her hand, as a pledge of her love,

And the plant she named Liberty Tree.

The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground,

Like a native it flourish'd and bore;
The fame of its fruit drew the nations around,

To seek out this peaceable shore.
Unmindful of names or distinctions they came,

For freemen like brothers agree;
With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued.

And their temple was Liberty Tree.

AT WHITE PLAINS. 185

Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old,

Their bread in contentment they ate,
XJnvexed with the troubles of silver and gold,

The cares of the grand and the great.
With timber and tar they old England supplied,

And supported her power on the sea;
Her battles they fought, without getting a groat,

For the honour of Liberty Tree.

But hear, oh, ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane,)

How all the tyrannical powers.
King, commons, and lords, are uniting amain.

To cut down this guardian of ours !
From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms!

Through the land let the sound of it flee;
Let the far and the near all unite, with a cheer.

In defence of our Liberty Tree.

"That's a song I allers liked," said Zeplianiah,
when Jim had concluded.

'^ The words of the song are excellent," said Luke.
" They breathe the pure spirit of patriotism. We
endure a good deal in defence of "our Liberty Tree."

"Yes," said Zephaniah, "I wish it was big and
strong enough to take care of itself."

" Ah !" said Luke, " its roots will have to strike deep
in the soil, and it will have to grow to be a large
trunk, to make it strong enough to take care of itself
It 's a sort of tree that needs a good deal of attention.
The worms attack it, and try to destroy it, and the
winds do their best to level it with the ground."
18*

186 THE CAMP-FIRE

" I hope we 11 be able to take care of it/' said Jim.

"Amen," added Luke.

" But you promised to tell us some sort of a story,
Luke, when Jim sang the song. Let 's have it, and
make it as long as you can, or we '11 run out of talk,"
said Dick.

"Never fear, Dick," said Zephaniah, "Luke's a
mine that never fails to yield somethin', whether it 's
real gold or not. But go on, Luke."

"Well, men, I don't care about inventing any
stories to amuse you, just now. I '11 tell you some-
thing real. I was vvdth the army of General Gates
that captured Burgoyne, and, if you 're willing, that
shall be the subject of my narrative. You 've heard,
I suppose, all the principal movements that brought
about the surrender, and that there was two battles
fought, and so on ; but I think I can amuse you by
telling you about some incidents that came under my
knowledge while I was there, either by seeing or hear-
ing of them," said Luke.

" That 's a part of this war that I know least about,"
said Zephaniah. " If you can give us an inkling of how
things went on there, you '11 do us a favor."

" You must n't expect me to give you all the details
of everything that occurred at Saratoga. All I shall
do will be to give you an idea to whom we are most
indebted for the victory, and how the men acted, and
Bo on," said Luke.

AT TTHITE PLAINS. 187

" Enough said/' struck in Dick ; "goon."
"Well, I was with Livingston's brigade/' began
Luke, '- James Livingston's it was, not Henry's. On
the 19 th of September, the daj- of the first battle, our
regiment, with Learned's brigade, and three Massachu-
setts regiments, formed the centre of the army, and
our position was on a high plain. Our commander,
General Gates, had determined to maintain a defensive
position, and we accordingly waited for the approach
of the enemy. The morning was clear and calm, and
everything was white with hoar-frost. We were so
near the British that we could hear their reveille ; and
we could see, through the openings in the wood, the
glitter of bayonets and sabres, and scarlet uniforms
moving about. About ten o'clock we knew that the
whole British force was in motion, yet we were still
in our position on the plain. About noon, at the
suggestion of General Arnold, Morgan's light horse,
and Dearborn's light infimtry, were sent out, and they
made a vigorous attack on the Canadians and Indians
who swarmed upon the hills. The furious charge of
Morgan broke the enemy ; but his men became scat-
tered in the wood, and a reinforcement of the British
coming up, drove them back in their turn. I could
see only a part of this, from where I was standing;
but I was told the rest, and I '11 tell it to you as if I
saw it myself Well, as I said, tlie detachment of
Morgan was broken, and a captain, a lieutenant, and

188 THE CAMP-FIRE-

some privates, fell into the hands of the British.
For a moment, Morgan found himself alone, and
he thought his band of sharp-shooters was ruined;
but he blew his loud signal-whistle, and his brave
boys soon gathered round him. He charged again,
and was joined by Dearborn, Cilley, and Scammel."

"That's a great band — them sharp-shooters of
Morgan's," said Zephaniah. "I've got a notion of
j'inin' 'em, if I can get a chance. It's a style o'
fightin' I like. Besides, Morgan's one of the never-
fails."

" Yes," said Luke, " you may well say that ; Mor-
gan is a never-fail. You may always depend upon
him and his band showing the toughest kind of fight-
ing. He dashes on the foe with such resistless force,
too, after the rifles of his men have done their work.
But to return to my story. Both parties fought with
great bravery ; and, in the end, each retired within
their lines. General Frazer, who commanded a por-
tion of the right wing of the enemy, then made an
attempt to turn our left flank ; and Arnold resolved
to make a similar attempt on Frazer. He put him-
self at the head of our division, and attempted to cut
off General Frazer from the main army. We ad-
vanced through a dense forest, and over the roughest
kind of ground. It appeared that neither party
could make out what the manoeuvres of the other
were for, till we came upon each other suddenly, on

AT TrniTE PLAINS. 189

the level ground near Mill Creek, I think they call it.
It was a short distance from a cottage. Arnold was
at the head of our men, and he fell upon the foe with
the fury of a lion. I was near him, with the troops
in advance, and I do n't think I ever saw a man dis-
play such fire and such bravery in action. He shouted
at the highest pitch of his voice, to cheer us on ; and
we dashed upon the foe with the force of a hurricane ;
but the numbers of the enemy were over^vhelming,
and they kept their ground. We had to give way for
awhile; but Arnold rallied the troops, and we re-
ceived a reinforcement of four regiments. Then we
went to the work again. We pushed them so hard,
that they began to give way and to fall into confusion ;
when General Philips appeared upon the ground, with
some artillery, to reinforce the British troops. The
victory seemed to be ours, just before his arrival, but
then we had to fall back to our line. It was then
about three o'clock. The desperate contest ceased for
awhile, for both parties wanted breath. I was almost
worn out. I had been in the van, where the hardest
fighting had been done, and I was bespattered with
blood ; — not my own, but from my comrades and the
troops of the enemy. I sat down on the ground, to
rest a little, before I should be called to the contest
again. We were just beyond musket-shot from the
enemy; and between us was a thick wood, and a
narrow clearing. We kept the deepest silence, and

190 THE CAMP-FIRE

could hear the officers of the enemy give their orders
along the lines. They broke the short peace, by
opening a hot fire from a large battery ; but it did
very little damage to us. We did n't answer them,
but still kept silence. Then we saw their infantry
coming across the open plain, with their steady tread,
and we knew they were going to try the ba^yonet.
We kept close behind our entrenchments, till they
fired a volley, and came on to the charge, when we
sprang upon them like tigers that had been crouching
to wait for their prey. We drove them back across
the clearing; and then followed as bloody and as
hard-fought a battle as ever these States saw. The
enemy were reinforced, and we were obliged to give
v>\^.y; and then we advanced with such force, that
they were compelled to fall back ; and so it continued
for three hours. The way men were maimed by the
shot, and mangled by the bayonet, was most horrible.
I received a bayonet-wound in the leg ; but it did n't
prevent me from keeping the field. I knew every
man was wanted there. The killed and wounded of
both armies were lying together. I helped to take
the cannon of the enemy, two or three times ; but in
the end we had to leave them, having no horses to
drag them away. The battle continued in this man-
ner till dark. Our regiment, with most of the army,
retired to our lines ; but some of our troops remained
on the ground, and skirmished till eleven o'clock at

AT TTIIITE PLAINS. 191

night. I never was so worn down in my life before.
I could not sleep, I was so tired."

" I should think so/' said Dick. Four hours' hard
fighting is enough to wear the stoutest men out."

" Was Arnold in the whole of the battle ?" asked
Zephaniah.

" Yes, through the whole four hours' contest ; ex-
posing himself to all the dangers of the common
soldier," replied Luke.

^•I heard that General Burgoyne was with the
army engaged durin' the battle," said Jim.

'' Yes, I saw him tAvo or three times, myself. He
came near being shot, once. The ball that was in-
tended for him, struck a captain in the arm. Indeed,
it was generally reported that he had been killed,"
was the reply.

" What was the number engaged on both sides ? —
did you hear?" asked Dick.

" Yes," replied Luke. " But, before I tell you, put
a little more wood on the fire. I 'm shivering all the
time." The request was complied with, and Luke
went on to answer the question. ''The force that the
British had engaged in the action, numbered about
three thousand men. Ours, about two thousand five
hundred."

'^ Very nearly matched," said Zephaniah.

" Yes ; but the advantage was on their side. They
claimed the victory, too; but I cant see how that

192 THE CAMP-FIRE

could be. We acted on the defensive. They were
the assailants. Now, if we kept our ground, they
must have failed in the object of their attack ; and
we were victorious. The mere possession of the
ground where the action was fought^ was nothing.
We retired within our lines, in order to rest more
securely. But to go on with my story. I didn't
sleep much that night, my leg pained so severely,
though I had had the wound dressed. If Burgoyne
had attacked us the next morning, he would have
made a sure thing of it ; for it was discovered that
we had only one round of cartridge left. But for an
arrival of som.e provisions, on the 20th, we should
have been put on short allowance, too. The British
did n't seem disposed to renew the fight, though they
had slept on the field of battle ; and they retired to
their camp on the river flats. Arnold wanted to
commence the battle early in the morning ; but we
had to wait for powder and bullets to come from
Albany, and that put a barrier to anything of the
kind. Well, both parties set about strengthening
their works. We lay within cannon-shot of the
British, from the 20th of September to the 7th of
October. We had skirmishes with small parties of
them every day ; for the pickets were so near each
other, they couldn't help taking an occasional skir-
mish. Besides, when we would send out foraging
parties, they would often come across a party of the

AT WHITE PLAINS. 193

enemy, out on the same business; and, of course,
there would be a fight. I was with one of these
foraging parties, when they met a party of British at
the same place where they intended to get some pro-
visions. I think there was about fifty of us in the
company, and we were under the command of Ser-
geant Horton. We proceeded to a farm about two
miles from the camp, and were marching up to the
house, before we caught sight of the red coats of the
enemy. It appeared that they discovered us about
the same time, and began to form, to wait for our
approach. They drew up in front of the house. I
guess they were about as many as our party num-
bered. We halted as soon as we saw them forming,
and drew up in a line for attack ;- for we were all
anxious to give them a specimen of what our boys
could do. Well, as soon as we could get everything
prepared, we didn't stop to enquire whether there
was any more of the red-coats about than wliat we
saw drawn up, but rushed on to the attack ; shouting
and whooping as loud as possible. They waited till
we got within musket-shot, and then poured into us
their fire, which we returned with a pretty good
eflcct — several of the enemy f\illing, to my know-
ledge. Two or three of our party were wounded, but
none killed. We pressed on to the attack, Avith our
bayonets, and they waited steadily to receive us ; and
then came a fierce contest, with that deadly weapon.
17 N

194 THE CAMP-FIRE

Clashing against each other, the bayonets went ; and
gashes were given and received. They stood the
onset steadily, for awhile 5 but seeing that we were
resolved to make too desperate a fight, they broke,
and we pursued them for some distance from the
house. We wounded two, and took them prisoners,
and then returned to the house. As we were making
arrangements with the owner of the farm, for some
provisions, some of our men observed the approach
of a larger party of the enemy ; and we secured all
the provisions we could lay hands on, and hurried
away from the house. I don't think we had got
away more than a hundred yards, when the party
of British came round the house, in pursuit of us.
You see, they had come towards the farm-house
from the side opposite to the one from which our
party canie. We immediately turned and gave them
a volley, and then got away just as fast as our legs
would carry us. We held on to the provisions till we
got into the wood where we had left our horses, and
then our flight became easier. The British party
were afraid to pursue us any farther, then ; because
there were so many different parties and detachments
from both armies out, that the greatest care was
necessary to keep from being surprised, or from falling
in with larger parties than they could stand against."
" Well," said Zephaniah, " I suppose you got safe
into camp with your provisions ?"

AT TTIIITE PLAINS. 195

'^Oh, yes/' replied Luke, "we arrived safely in
camp, without further molestation. But I forgot to
tell you that we had received a reinforcement of two
thousand New England troops, under General Lin-
coln, just before that affair of the foraging party.
General Gates gave up the command of the right
w^ing to him, and took command of the left ; — that
is, the one that had fought the battle, and wdiich our
regiment belonged to. Some say that Gates was
jealous of the laurels Arnold had won, and wanted
to have a share of the glory himself. I do n't know
how that was ; but I know that Arnold was deprived
of his command, and stayed w^ith the army merely
that his reputation might not suffer by his leaving
when another battle was hourly expected."

" I suppose Gates treated Arnold as meanly as he
did General Schuyler, when Schuyler w^as deprived
of his command of the northern army," said Zepha-
niah. " I 've heard he acted a close and narrow-
hearted part towards Schuyler."

"It may be true," replied Luke. "General Gates
never stood very high in my estimation. But to re-
turn to my narrative. Our army increased in num-
bers very fast, after the battle of Stillwater, as the
fight of the 19th of September is called. Troops
came in from all parts of the surrounding country ;
and we were thus enabled to send out small detach-
ments to harass the enemy, wiuiout weakening our

196 THE CAMP-FIRE

lines, or endangering the safety of the camp. A.bout
three days after the battle, we were joined by about
a hundred and fifty Indians, belonging to the Mo-
hawks, Oneidas, Tuscaroras, and some other tribes.
They were a fine, lusty set of men, and they looked
as if they would be a valuable aid to us. The In-
dians of Burgoyne's army began to desert him about
the same time. You see, they expected to get plenty
of scalps and plunder ; but being mistaken, and the
hunting season coming on, they waiited to go and
provide for their wives and children. This, and the
want of provisions, put Burgoyne into a perilous con-
dition. Our pickets and skirmishing detachments
were so numerous, that he could n't even get a letter
to Clinton for some days. Not an ounce of provisions,
nor a man, was allowed to get to him from any quar-
ter; and about the first of October, I heard, he put
his troops on short allowance. He was compelled to
fight or fly. To fly was impossible, for we had every
passage guarded ; and so he resolved to fight."

"He was compelled to fight or surrender, then,"
said Zephaniah ; " and he chose to fight ?"

"Yes, exactly," replied Luke. "British pride
couldn't think of surrendering a finely-equipped
army, like Burgoyne's, to an army principally com-
posed of raw troops, like ours, without having a hard
fight. Well; the morning of the 7th of October came.
General Gates had jrdered a detachment of three

AT WHITE PLAINS. 197

hundred men, under the command of Colonel Brooks,
to gain the rear of the enemy, and fall upon his out-
posts; and Colonel Brooks was at head-quarters,
receiving his instructions, when a sergeant brought
intelligence of the advance of a large body of the
enemy, under Burgoyne, towards our left. The order
to Brooks was revoked, and the general sent out an
aid, to ascertain the exact position and probable in-
tentions of the enemy. Before I heard what intelli-
gence was brought, news came that the Indians and
Canadians had attacked our pickets, near Mill Creek.
I soon caught sight of the pickets retreating; and
they were pursued by the Canadians and Indians,
and a detachment of grenadiers, to within musket-
shot of our lines. Then there was a hot fight for
about half an hour, at the breastwork, till Morgan,
with his riflemen and a corps of infantry, charged on
the enemy with such effect, that they were thrown
into confusion, and driven to the British line, which
was forming on a newly-cleared field."

"Jim, put more wood on the fire ; will you ? you've
got it handy. I suppose we '11 have to sit here and
talk all night, if it's goin' to be this cold," said Dick,
crowding as close to the fire as possible.

" I 'm pretty certain I shall be up all night," said
Jim ; " and I want to hear the rest that Luke has to
tell aljout Saratoga."

Blankets were brou<?ht into use, in which the men
17*

198 THE CAMP-FIRE

wrapped themselves, and prepared to make them-
selves as comfortable as circumstances would admit,
and pass the night in talking, or listening to Luke's
narrative of the events which led to the capture of
Burgoyne.

" Now, Luke," said Zephaniah, after they had all
got fixed a little more comfortable, " we 're ready to
hear the rest of the story, as soon as you 're ready to
give it."

"Always ready," said Luke. "It was about two
o'clock, I think ; about the same time the bloodiest
fight of the 19th commenced. Morgan had been sent,
with his riflemen and other troops, amounting to fif-
teen hundred men, to fall upon the flanking party of
General Frazer at the same time when the attack
should be made on the British left. Our brigade,
under General Poor, was to make the attack on the
British left, aided by a portion of Learned's brigade.
Well, at the order being given, we marched steadily
up the slope of the hill on which the British artillery
and grenadiers were posted. We had received orders
not to fire until after the first discharge from the
enemy ; and w^e were true to them. We were march-
ing up to the cannon's mouths, amid an aw^ful silence,
when suddenly they let their grape-shot and musket-
balls fly ; and they made great havoc in the branches
of the trees above our heads, but did n't hurt us any
of account. This was our signal. We sprang for-

GENERAL MOEGAN.

AT WHITE PLAINS. 199

ward with a loud sliout, and poured our fire, in rapid
volleys, into the British on the hill, and opened right
and left, to get the cover of the trees, so that the
artillery couldn't rake us. The fight soon became
bloody. We rushed up to the mouths of the cannon,
and struggled with the enemy among the carriages of
the field-pieces. They fought as desperately as we
did. They knew how much depended on that day's
work. For a long time, the scale seemed almost
equal. We took their cannon several times ; and as
often did they retake them. One piece I saw taken
five times; but at last it remained with us, as the
British fell back. Colonel Cilley, who had been
fighting at the head of his troops, leaped on the cap-
tured piece and waved his sword; ^dedicating,' he
said, ^ the piece to the American cause.' He turned
the cannon's muzzle to the enemy, and we opened a
fire on them with their own ammunition. This
seemed to give our men stronger sinews and fiercer
courage. We went into them with more force than
ever, but the fight was obstinate on their part. They
Avere Ijrave and skilful. At last, Major Ackland, the
foremost man in the fight, on their part, was severely
wounded, and Major Williams was taken prisoner;
and then the grenadiers and artillery-men lied in con-
fusion, and left the field in possession of the Ame-
rican troops. About the time of our attack on the
British left, Morgan, with his corps, rushed down the

200 THE CAMP-FIRE

hills that skirted the flanking party of Frazer, in
advance of the enemy's right, and opened on them
such a storm of well-aimed bullets, that they were
driven hastily back to their lines. Then, with the
speed of the wind, Morgan wheeled, and fell upon the
British right flank with such force, that their ranks
were at once thrown into confusion. It seemed as if
the attack in that manner came upon the British
unexpectedly. While they were in confusion from
Morgan's attack, Major Dearborn fell upon them in
front, with some fresh troops. They broke and fled
in the greatest terror, but were rallied by the Earl
of Balcarras, and again brought up to the work.
These shocks upon the right and left shook the
British camp, but it still stood firm. While we were
.waiting on the hill where we had beaten the grena-
diers and artillery-men that formed the right of the
enemy, I saw a horseman coming towards us, from
our lines, at full speed. He rode a large brown. horse,
and seemed flying as if pursued. As he neared us,
we discovered that it was the gallant Arnold ; and a
loud hurrah went up from our brigade. He put him-
self at the head of three regiments of Learned's
brigade, ours among the number, and led us against
the British centre. How soldiers will fight under a
leader in whom they have confidence ! Arnold rushed
into the thickest of the fight, with the fury of a mad-
man, or rode along the lines, brandishing his broad-

AT WHITE PLAINS. 201

Kword above his head and giving his orders. I saw
an officer on horseback, who seemed to be trying to
get to speak to Arnold ; but after following him about
for half an hour, he gave up the chase. I afterwards
learned that the officer was Major Armstrong, and
that he had been sent to order Arnold back from the
field. The Hessians, who formed tne greater part of
the centre of the enemy, received our first assault
with firmness, and stood their ground bravely ; but
on the second charge, when Arnold at our head
dashed furiously in among them, they broke, and fled
in the greatest dismay. Then the battle became
general along the whole line. It was awful. Amidst
the rain of bullets, the flames and smoke, Arnold
could be seen, with his trumpet voice animating the
men, as he dashed about from one part of the field to
another; and Morgan, too, was hardly less active.
On the part of the British, General Frazer was the
ruling spirit. When the ranks gave way, he put them
in order again ; when their lines began to waver, he
infused some of his own courage into them. He was
mounted on a splendid gray gelding, and dressed in
the full uniform of a field-offiicer; he was a fine aim
for our marksmen. It was evident that the fiite of
the day rested on him, and Arnold suggested to
Morgan the importance of his death. Morgan called
a file of his best men around him, and pointing to
General Frazer, told them that victory depended on

202 THE CAMP-FIRE

him, and that though he admired him for his bravery,
he must die ; and told them to take their station in a
clump of bushes near by, and do their duty. About
five minutes afterwards, Frazer fell, mortally wounded,
and was borne ojQP the field."

" That seems like a cold-blooded murder," said Jim.
" But I think Morgan done right. If it had been a
poor private like ourselves, there would n't have been
anybody to say anything about whether it was right
or not ; but because it was a general, we hear people
censure Morgan."

" No doubt," remarked Luke, " the death of Gen-
eral Frazer saved a great deal of slaughter ; for if he
had lived through the action, the victory would have
been doubtful, at least. His bravery would have
animated the British to make a more desperate re-
sistance, and then the slaughter on both sides would
have been more horrible than it was. He was a
splendid officer, though he was fighting on the wrong
side of the question."

" I suppose his death put a sort of panic into the
enemy," said Zephaniah.

"Yes; as soon as Frazer fell, they began to get
dismayed," replied Luke ; " and just then three thou-
sand New York troops, under General Tenbroeck,
made their appearance. That completed their dis-
may ; and the whole line broke and fled within the
entrenchments of their camp. We pursued them up

AT WHITE PLAINS. 203

to their very entrenchments, in the face of a furious
storm of grape-shot and musket-balls, and assaulted
their works vigorously, without the aid of artillery.
Arnold took a ^Dart of the brigades of Patterson and
Glover, and assaulted the works occupied by the
British light infantry, under the Earl of Balcarras,
and drove the enemy from a strong abattis, at the
point of the bayonet. There he tried to force his
way into the enemy's camp ; but he was obliged to
abandon the attempt. Our brigade was advancing to
make an assault on the works at an opening in the
abattis, between the light infancy and the German
right flank defence, under Colonel Breyman, when
we saw Arnold dashing through the cross-flre of the
two armies, and coming towards us. He placed him-
self at our head, and we moved on rapidly to the
attack. He directed Brook's regiment to assault a
redoubt which was on one side of the opening, while
the remainder of the brigade fell upon the front.
The battle there was fierce and bloody; but the
enemy at last gave way, and left the Germans com-
pletely exposed. At that moment, Arnold galloped
to the left, where we were, and ordered our regiment
and Weston's, and Morgan's riilemen, to advance and
make a general assault. He put himself at the head
of Brook's regiment, and attacked the German works.
Having found the sally-port, he rushed within the
enemy's entrenchments; and the Germans, who had

204 THE CAMP-FIRE

seen him on his steed, in the thickest of the fight,
for more than two hours, fled terrified ; but, as they
fled, they fired a vollej^, which killed Arnold's horse,
and wounded the general himself, in the same leg in
which he was wounded at Quebec. There, as I was
told. Major Armstrong overtook him, and delivered
Gates's order, to return to camp, fearing he ' might do
some rash thing !' "

"It was a rash thing, no doubt, in the eye of
Gates," said Zephaniah ; " but it 's the right sort o'
thing to lead troops to victory."

" Where was General Gates, all the time the battle
was going on ?" asked Dick.

" Why, in the camp, while Burgoyne was in the
field all day," was the reply. " He issued his orders
from his quarters, when he should have been on the
field to inspirit his troops. It was about twilight
when Arnold was wounded, and conveyed from the
field by Major Armstrong and a sergeant. The Ger-
mans, finding the assault general, threw down their
arms, and retreated to the interior of the camp,
leaving their commander. Colonel Breyman, mortally
wounded. The British camp was thus left exposed
at a strong point. Burgoyne attempted to rally the
dismayed Germans; but they couldn't be brought
into action again. Both sides were worn out with
the exertions of the day; and as the darkness in-
creased, the contest ended, and everything was hushed

AT WHITE PLAINS. 205

but the groans of the wounded, the occasional v/ord
of command, and the heavy tread of retiring columns,
seeking for a place of repose. We kept the field till
about midnight, when we were relieved by the divi-
sion of General Lincoln, which had remained in camp
during the action. We returned to camp to enjoy a
little rest after such a day's work ; and, I tell you,
I felt a sort of thankfulness, that I was permitted to
return to quarters once more. I slept soundly till
the next morning. When I awoke, at the reveille, I
heard that Burgoyne had evacuated his camp, and
removed the whole of his army, artillery, and bag-
gage, about a mile from his former position. We
did n't go out of the camp that day ; but news would
come in, every now and then, of a skirmish between
some of Lincoln's troops and the enemy; we also
learned that the general had taken possession of the
British camp, and was wounded in the leg. As the
news that the British had retreated soon spread over
the surrounding country, the people came flocking
into camp, to join in the general joy, and to ascertain
whether any of their relatives and friends were
among the killed and wounded."

" What was your loss in the whole day's battle ?"
enquired Zephaniah.

"About a hundred and fifty, killed and wounded.
Arnold was the only commissioned officer who I'e-
ceived a wound."
18

206 THE CAMP-FIRE

"What was the loss of the British?" Zephaniah
next enquired, wishing to know all the particulars,
and fearful, also, that the narrative was near its close.

" The enemy lost about seven hundred, in killed,
wounded, and prisoners. Among their officers who
were killed, was the gallant Frazer, Sir Francis
Clarke, Burgoyne's aid-de-camp, who died at the
head-quarters of Gates, Colonel Breyman, of the
German corps, and Lieutenant Reynell. We took
Major Ackland and Major Williams, prisoners. Bur-
goyne had several very narrow escapes. One ball
passed through his hat, and another through his
coat."

" Well, I suppose you are goin' to tell us all about
the surrender ; ain't you ?" enquired Jim, anxiously,
as Luke paused.

" Oh, yes ; I '11 tell you about that, in its proper
time. I '11 go on from where I left off. We kept up
a constant cannonading on the 8th of October, the
day after the battle, principally directed against a
place called ' the great redoubt,' on a hill near the
British camp. I afterwards learned that General
Frazer had died that morning, and that he requested
to be buried on the hill, in the great redoubt, at six
o'clock in the evening. At the appointed time, the
request was complied with, while our cannon-balls
were flying around the grave, and ploughing up the
hill. This redoubt was within sight of both armies,

AT WHITE PLAINS. 207

and all eyes were directed towards it. We had mis-
taken the character of the procession, and kept up
our cannonading; but as soon as we were informed
that it was a funeral, paying the last tribute of re-
spect to General Frazer, orders were given to cease
firing with balls, and to render military honors to the
fallen brave. While the chaplain was repeating the
service, a single cannon was fired at regular intervals,
by our troops; and it seemed to boom mournfully
among the hills."

" That was a pleasing incident," said Zephaniah.
" Two hostile armies doing homage to the same brave
man,, is a rare sight."

" It shows that the brave know how to honor the
brave, no matter if among the foe," replied Luke.
"Both of the hostile armies could testify to the
bravery and skill of General Frazer. We had thought
him their best ofiicer in battle, and his \if:Q paid for
that reputation. The British knew that without
him they would have fiired far worse than they did.
Well, to continue my story. On the night of the 8th,
it rained; — the next morning, we received intelli-
gence that the whole British army had retreated from
their position at Wilbur's Basin, and that Burgoyne
had left all his sick and wounded behind him, in the
hospital, and had also abandoned a great number of
wheel-carriages and other things. They had left
Wilbur's Basin about nine o'clock, on the night of the

208 THE CAMP-FIRE

8th of October, and marched through all the rain,
and over the bad roads, though they had been under
arms all day, and the night before. I learned after-
wards, that they were so worn out, that they had to
make a halt, about six o'clock in the morning, and
rest for three hours. It rained all day on the 9th,
and of course we could n't think of pursuit that day ;
but about noon of the next, we started. General
Gates had calculated that Burgoyne would retreat on
the 9th, and had sent General Fellows, with about
fourteen hundred men, to occupy the high ground
that was opposite the Saratoga ford ; another detach-
ment to occupy the ground near Fort Miller; and
another, of two thousand men, to occupy the heights
beyond Saratoga, in the direction of Lake George."

" I 've never been in the neighborhood where the
battles were fought," said Zephaniah ; " but I suppose
that these detachments were intended to cut off Bur-
goyne's retreat."

"That was their object," replied Luke. "We
reached the high ground, between Saratoga Church
and Fish Creek, about four o'clock in the afternoon.
The British had crossed over the creek, and encamped
on the high ground on the other side. The two
armies were within the sound of each other's music.
The boats of Burgoyne, with his baggage and provi-
sions, were at the mouth of the creek. A fatigue
party began to carry the stores from the boats to the

AT WHITE PLAINS. 209

heights ; but General Fellows played on them with
two field-pieces, and they were obliged to retreat to
their camp. Several of the boats were taken, with
their contents, and were plundered by the raw militia
we had with the army. Even the continental troops
would take their pay and rations directly from the
enemy, instead of receiving it regularly; so that
General Gates had to issue an order, in which he said
he would have the first person who was detected in
plundering the baggage and stores taken from the
enemy, punished with the utmost severity of mihtary
law. Finding we had guarded the ford across the
Hudson, Burgoyne thought he would retreat up the
right bank of that river, till he got opposite to Fort
Edward, and then force his way across, and take
possession of that fort. But it seemed as if we had
small detachments all over the surrounding country.
Every height was guarded, and every passage blocked
up. Tlie workmen that Burgoyne had sent forward
to open the roads and repair the bridges, were driven
back into the camp. The British found the fort in
possession of about two hundred Americans, under
Colonel Cochrane. The miUtia flocked into the fort,
to strengthen the garrison ; and the British, thinking
our troops were as numerous in their front as in their
rear, retreated back to their lines. About this time,
a stratagem of the British commander came near
being successful. lie caused a rumor to reach us,
18* o

210 THE CAMP-FIRE

that the whole British army had marched towards
Fort Edward, leaving only a small detachment, as a
rear-guard, in defence of the camp. General Gates
determined to cross Fish Creek, on the morning of the
11th, and fall upon the rear-guard with his whole
force, and then make a vigorous pursuit after the
main body. This, you see, was what Burgoyne
wanted. He put a strong guard at the battery on the
creek, and concealed his troops in the thicket in the
rear — a sort of ambush. Well, the morning of the
11th was cloudless, as far as the sky was concerned ;
but a thick fog rested on the whole country, and ob-
scured every object. This was thought to be a favor-
able circumstance, by both generals. You must bear
in mind, that what I 'm telling you now, I learned
after the surrender ; it was impossible for me to know
these things then."

" Yes," said Zephaniah, " I was wonderin' how you
got to know these things, seein' you weren't an
officer."

"All told to me afterwards," continued Luke ; " but
you must recollect I 'm telling you as if I saw it my-
self at the time. Well, as I said, this was considered
a favorable omen by both generals. Gates thought it
would veil his movements from the British rear-
guard ; and Burgoyne believed it would conceal his
ambush, and that victory was certain. The brigades
of Nixon and Glover, and Morgan's corps, were or-

AT WHITE PLAINS. 211

dered to cross the creek, and fall upon the enemy's
camp. Morgan advanced about daylight, when the
fog was so thick that he could see but a few rods
around him. He fell in with the British pickets,
who poured in a volley on him, and killed a lieu-
tenant and several privates. Morgan thought at once
that the rumor was false, and that the enemy was in
force in the rear; and Wilkinson, the deputy adju-
tant^general, who had been sent by Gates to recon-
noitre, was of the same opinion. Accordingly, our
brigade, (that was, Learned's,) and Patterson's, were
despatched to the support of Morgan. Nixon and
Glover pressed forward to attack the camp. Nixon
crossed the creek, and surprised a picket at Fort
Hardy, and Glover was about to follow him, when a
British soldier was seen fording the stream. He was
captured, and professed to be a deserter. Glover
questioned him, and was informed that the entire
British army were in their camp, drawn up in the
order of battle. Glover did n't believe him at first ;
but the capture of a German deserter and a recon-
noitring party, by the advance-guard, under Captain
Goodale, put it beyond doubt. Gates, having received
information of these things from Glover, revoked all
the orders he had given on the previous evening, and
directed the troops to return to their former positions.
General Gates's head-quarters were about a mile in
the rear of the army, and his orders came almost too

212 THE CAMP-FIRE

late to save the troops from destruction. Those who
had crossed the creek^ were soon exposed to the
enemy, by the fog clearing away. The British were
under arms, on the heights. Nixon had retreated,
however, and the cannonade opened on him by the
British, took ejffect only on the rear of his detach-
ment. In the meantime, our party had joined Mor-
gan, and we were about to press on to the attack,
when Wilkinson arrived, with the intelligence that
the right wing of our army had given way. The
commander of the detachment was General Learned,
who also commanded our brigade. He was a veteran
soldier ; and not having received any counter orders
from Gates, he wanted to carry out the orders of the
previous day ; but on counselling with some of his
officers, a retreat was deemed advisable. As we
turned to retreat, the British opened their fire on us ;
but we were soon masked by the woods, and Morgan
took post on the flank and rear of the enemy. Thus
we were enabled to return to our old positions, and
thus were we saved from a fatal defeat ; for if Bur-
goyne had cut off the brigades of Nixon, Glover,
Learned, and Patterson, our army would have been
so weakened, that Burgoyne might have easily scat-
tered the remainder of our forces, and made good his
retreat to Albany. But the deserters blasted all his
prospects.'*

"Open the canvass, there, Dick, and see if you

AT WHITE PLAINS. 213

can perceive anything of the day coming over the
hills," said Jim.

"No, there's no signs of it, yet," replied Dick,
after doing as requested.

" Then Luke will have time to tell us about the
surrender," said Zephaniah. "That's the most in-
teresting part, to me."

" Oh, yes," returned Luke, " I think there 's time
enough to tell about that, yet. I '11 make it as short
as possible."

" Go on, then," said Zephaniah.

" Well, Burgoyne saw that all retreat was cut off.
The scouts reported that the roads swarmed with
republicans. The few Indians he had with him, left
him, disheartened by his ill success. The loyalists
who had joined his army, began to think about their
personal security, and drop off gradually. Burgoyne
had expected to hear from Clinton ; but not a word
did he receive from him. His camp was completely
surrounded, and every part of it exposed to the fire
of cannon and musketry. He had n't bread enough
in camp for three days' use ; and, of course, none
could be obtained. None dared to go to the river for
water, except the women of their camp — no one
would shoot at them ; but every man that went was
a target for our marksmen. Their army was only
about half as large as it was when they first came
into the neighborhood of Stillwater, and the greater

214 THE CAMP-FIRE

part of them were not Englishmen. Well, as I heard,
on the morning of the 13th of October, Burgoyne
called a council of his officers, including even captains
of companies. They sat in a large tent, which was
several times a mark for our musket-balls. An
eighteen-pound cannon-ball swept across the table at
which Burgoyne and the other officers were sitting,
and several grape-shot fell near the tent."

" I guess they moved out of that pretty soon after
that ; did n't they ?" enquired Zephaniah.

" Yes," replied Luke, " their deliberation was short,
and they resolved to open a treaty with General
Gates, for an honorable surrender. Towards night, a
flag came to our commander, with a note, stating that
General Burgoyne wanted to send a field-officer to
him, on matters of great moment, and wishing to
know when General Gates would see him. The reply
was, about ten o'clock the next morning, at the ad-
vanced post of the army of the United States. Ac-
cordingly, at the appointed time. Gates met Lieutenant
Kingston, Burgoyne's adjutant-general. Gates sub-
mitted the terms he had prepared to the inspection
of Burgoyne ; but that general objected to an article
requiring the British to lay down their arms in their
camp. He said that he would not admit that the
retreat of his army was cut oflP while the men had
arms in their hands. So General Gates removed that
article from the list of terms. Negotiations were kept

AT WHITE PLAINS. 215

up till the 16 th, when everything was arranged,
ready for the signatures of the contracting parties.
That act was to be performed on the 17th. On the
night of the 16th, intelligence was communicated to
Burgoyne, from Sir Henry Clinton, announcing the
capture of the forts among the Hudson highlands,
and the expedition of Vaughan and Wallace, up the
river. This made Burgoyne anxious to avoid signing
the articles of surrender; and Gates was made ac-
quainted with the fact. Accordingly, on the morning
of the 17th, we were drawn up in order of battle,
and then Gates sent word to Burgoyne, that if he
did n't sign the articles immediately, he would open
a fire upon him, and that if the negotiation was to
be broken off there, and again commenced, the terms
would not be quite so honorable for him. So Bur-
goyne was compelled to sign his name, and prepara-
tions were made at once for the surrender. The
British left their camp upon the hills, and marched
slowly down upon the level plain, in front of old Fort
Hardy ; and there the different companies were drawn
up in parallel lines, and, by order of their several
commanders, grounded their arms and emptied their
cartridge-boxes. I didn't see this done, for Gates
had ordered all his army within camp, out of sight
of the vanquished British troops. Colonel Wilkinson
was the only American present at the scene. He
had been sent to the British camp, and, in company

216 THE CAMP-FIRE

with Burgoyne, selected the place where the troops
were to lay down their arms. After the surrender,
Burgoyne wanted to be introduced to General Gates ;
and he was conducted to head-quarters, with his staff.
When Gates was informed of the approach of Bur-
goyne and his oJSicers, he rode out to meet him, with
his staff. When within about a sword's length, they
reined up and halted. Colonel Wilkinson then named
the gentlemen, and the British commander said, ' The
fortune of w^ar, General Gates, has made me your
prisoner.' Then Gates replied, complimenting him
on his bravery and generalship. I could see the
meeting of the generals, from the place where I was
standing at the time. Burgoyne was dressed in a
rich uniform, of scarlet and gold, and Gates in a plain
blue frock-coat. The officers in Burgoyne's suite
were then introduced to Gates and his staff, and the
whole proceeded to head-quarters. Then the British
troops came into camp, and we entertained them as
if they were the best friends we had in the world.
Every comfort we had they shared with us. They
had been pretty hard pushed for provisions for some
days previous, and they enjoyed our plenty."

" It 's a pity we could n't always agree with them
in that way," said Zephaniah. "I'd sooner share
my loaf with a man than fight him, at any time."

" Yes, Zephaniah, I think so, too," returned Luke.
" It 's a great pity we can't always agree with men

AT WHITE PLAINS. 217

m the way we did with the British troops, after the
surrender. But as long as there will be oppression,
and men to fight in defence of it, there will be men
to resist in the same way."

"Well, I suppose you've concluded your story;
have n't you ?" enquired Jim.

" Yes, I think that 's quite enough for one night,"
returned Luke. "It must be near daybreak, any-
how."

Luke got up, pulled aside the canvass of the tent,
and looked out. A few "envious streaks" were in
the eastern horizon — harbingers of the approach of
the blazing car of Phoebus. It was still very cold,
and the clouds were of a leaden hue, that showed
them burdened with a wealth of snow. Luke re-
turned to the fire quickly, and the men sat there
patiently, waiting for the day to dawn in full, that
they might the sooner get their share of provisions.
The fire was renewed, and the men stuck as close to
it as before. In about half un hour, the reveille
beat, and the camp was all bustle. No doubt, many
of the soldiers had passed the night in the same
manner as Luke and his comrades ; for the general
fare of the soldiers was about the same as theirs.

19

THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA.

Preyious to the second battle of Stillwater, which
took place on the 7th of October, General Gates, an-
ticipating a retreat of Burgoyne's army, sent General
Fellows, with a detachment of fourteen hundred men,
to occupy the high grounds east of the Hudson, oppo-
site to Saratoga ford. After the action, he sent an-
other detachment to occupy ground higher up, near
Fort Miller, and ordered a selected corps of two thou-
sand men, under General Stark, to push forward, and
occupy the heights beyond Saratoga, in the direction
of Lake George. In this way was the retreat of Bur-
goyne cut off. The detachment under General Stark
effectually prevented all communication between the
British army and Canada, which could only be made
by way of Lake George. Their encampment was
situated on the heights beyond Saratoga, and partly
concealed in a wood. The detachment consisted al-
most entirely of the New Hampshire militia, raised
principally by General Stark himself That general
was very popular among the inhabitants of his native

(218)

THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. 219

region, and he could call a larger body of men to
serve under him, than any other commander. What
was called the New Hampshire militia, in those da;ys,
included not only the miUtia of the country that
forms the present State of New Hampshire, but also
those raised in the country that now forms the State
of Vermont. At that time, this portion of territory
was called " The New Hampshire Grant."

It was two days before the surrender of the haughty
Britons, at Saratoga. The detachment of General
Stark had received the intelligence that Burgoyne
and his officers had decided upon a surrender of their
army ; and, though that event had been expected,
the troops were much elated at the idea of capturing
such a proud and well-appointed force. The evening
was setting in, gray and dusk ; and as the nights of
October are chilly in that high region, the camp-fires
were blazing in the wood, and near the verge of the
hill, on a short clearing. Each tent had its usual
party around the fire in front of it, laughing heartily
at the slightest joke, as men will do when anything
occurs to put them in a very good humor, or listening
to the narrative of some ruling spirit, recounting the
details of some event which the speaker had seen, or
in which he had participated.

Before a tent in the wood, was a group of five men,
whom we shall particuLarly notice. The tent wan
the one deepest in the wood, at some distance from

220 THE CAMP-FIRE

the rest. Either there were not seats enough for the
whole party, or two of them did not seem anxious to
sit down. Two of the men were seated on large
stones, brought near the fire ; one, with his hat off,
was enjoying the luxury of a pipe, and the other was
evidently talking to the group about something full
of interest. A young-looking individual was leaning
his back against a tree, as he stood, with folded arms,
at the right hand of the man with the pipe in his
mouth. Within a few feet of the young man, stood
another soldier, with a very good-humored Irish coun-
tenance ] he was leaning on the bend of the bayonet
of his musket, and also had a pipe. On the ground,
between the two men sitting on the stones, was an-
other individual, in a half-sitting, half-lying posture,
with his right arm leaning upon the seat of the one
who was smoking. They were dressed more uni-
formly than was usual among the militia. The
"bagonet-hat" was there; and in the case of the
Irishman, it was cocked in a very rollicking manner
over the left eye. Then there was the coat commonly
worn by the continental troops, made of blue, and
trimmed with buff. Short epaulettes were on the
shoulders of them all.

" You have no idea of the affair, if I can judge
from what you say," remarked the man sitting on the
Ftone next to the soldier who was smoking. " I tell
you, it was one of the most glorious day's work, for

THE CAMP FIRE AT SARATOGA.

AT SARATOGA. 221

our side, we Ve done since the commencement of the
war."

" Oh, Hadlej^, do n't put it on so thick !" said the
one lying on the ground. " You want to magnify a
skirmish into a battle ; do n't you ?"

"A skirmish!" returned Hadley; "why, if that
was a skirmish, the war has been nothing but skir-
mishes ! Do you know anything about the battle ?"

" Yes ; I know that there was a few Hessians sent
to Bennington, to capture the stores there, and that
General Stark, who commands us now, got some
Green Mountain boys together,- and drove the enemy
away ; and that 's all of it,'' replied Seth, as the
speaker was called.

"Pshaw!" ejaculated Looney, "the Irishman. "I
know there was more of it. Lfef's hear all about it,
from a man that was on the spot. Go on wid ye !"

" Yes," said Ephraim, the other gentleman with a
pipe, " tell us the particulars, Iladley."

"Anything that has General Stark mixed in with
it, must be worth hearing," remarked Josiah, the
young man leaning against the tree.

" I 've no objection to put you in the way of hear-
ing the right account of what Seth, here, calls ' tlie
skirmish at Bennhigton,'" replied Iladley. "I say
it was a real hard-fought battle; and I'll tell you all
the particulars that I'm acquainted with, and you
may judge whether it deserved the contempt of being

222 THE CAMP-FIRE

called a skirmish. In my humble opinion^ it did as
much to bring about the capture of Burgoyne's army,
as any other single event."

"Well, I'm anxious to hear the account/' said
Ephraim.

" Go on, and let us have it," said Looney.

" You must know, then," began Hadley, " when I
heard that the army of Burgoyne was moving down
into New York, from Canada, and that General Stark
was commissioned to raise a force of militia to protect
the frontiers, I at once resolved to join him — our
family being in danger, as well as any of the rest. I
went to Charlestown, on the Connecticut ; from there,
most of the men were sent to join Colonel Warner's
regiment, which had taken post at Manchester, twenty
miles above Bennington ; but I went to Bennington,
and joined Colonel Nichols, because I knew him
better. There Stark soon joined us. General Lin-
coln had been sent from Stillwater, by General Schuy-
ler, who then had command of the northern depart-
ment of the army, to conduct the militia to the west
bank of the Hudson ; but General Stark, you may
have heard, was acting under orders from the Assem-
bly of New Hampshire, and not from the General
Government ; and he declined complying with Schuy-
ler's request. In spite of some resolutions adopted
by Congress, with the object of drawing us away from
the protection of our own homes, General Stark kept

AT SARATOGA. 223

his ground. On the 13th of August, news reached
Bennington, that a party of Indians belonging to
Baum's force, had been perceived at Cambridge, about
twelve miles northwest of Bennington. General Stark
immediately sent out Lieutenant-Colonel Gregg, with
two hundred men, to check the march of the party.
In the course of the night, an express arrived, with
the intelligence that a large body of the enemy, with
a train of artillery, were in the rear of the Indians,
on their march to Bennington. We were all sum-
moned to get ready at once, for the enemy would
soon be upon us. Colonel Warner was ordered to
march his regiment down to Bennington, and a call
was made on all the neighboring militia. Early on
the morning of the 14th, all the force that had col-
lected at Bennington moved forward, under General
Stark, to support Colonel Gregg. Colonel Warner's
regiment had not arrived, of course, but the Colonel
himself was with us; his regiment, at Manchester,
being under the command of Major SalTord. When
we were about four miles from Bennington, we met
Colonel Gregg's party, in full retreat, and heard that
the enemy was within a mile of him. We halted,
and were drawn up in order of Ijattle."

" How many was in your whole army ?" enquired
Seth.

"About a thousand, I think," replied Iladley. ^' I'm
pretty sure there was n't more than tliat number en-

224

THE CAMP-FIRE

gaged in the battle of the 16th. Well, we were
within sight of the enemy ; and they, seeing that we
had taken a stand, halted in a very favorable position,
and there entrenched themselves. We found that we
could n't draw the Dutchmen out, and we fell back
about a mile, leaving a small party to skirmish with
the enemy. Our party made out well in that skir-
mish, too; for they killed and wounded thirty of
the enemy, with two Indian chiefs, and lost none at
all themselves. . That was all that was done that
day. The next, the 15th, was rainy, and we could
do nothing but skirmish."

'- Did n't I tell you it was only a skirmish T inter-
rupted Seth.

" Hold on awhile, Seth, till we hear it all," said
Ephraim.

''Yes, hold on till I get through, and then pass
your opinion upon it," continued Hadley. " We did
nothing on the 15th, but skirmish ; but that skirmish-
ing had some effect. The Indians said the woods
were filled with Yankees, and began to desert Baum.
The delay gave the enemy some advantages, however.
It enabled them to complete their breastworks, and
to send to Burgoyne for a reinforcement. On the
morning of the 16th, we received a small reinforce-
ment of militia, under Colonel Symonds, and then
General Stark made preparations for an attack. The
Dutch were posted, with their battery, on a rising

AT SARATOGA. 225

ground at a bend in the WoUansac, a small stream
that runs into the Hoosac River. Their position was
on its north bank. The ground fell off to the north
and west ; a circumstance that Stark noted, and of
which he made good use. On the other side of the
stream, a body of tories were entrenched. The
ground they occupied was lower, and nearly in front
of the German battery. The stream was fordable in
all places. We were encamped on the same side of
it as the Germans ; but it was so winding and snake-
like, that we had to cross it twice on our way to our
position. The post of the enemy was carefully re-
connoitred, at a mile's distance, and the plan of attack
was arranged. I '11 tell you how it was to be. Col-
onel Nichols, with two hundred men, (of which I was
one,) was detached to attack the rear of the enemy's
left, and Colonel Herrick, with three hundred men,
to fall upon the rear of their right, with orders to
form a junction before they made the assault. Col-
onels Hubbard and Stickney were also ordered to
advance, with two hundred men, on their right, and
one hundred in front, to divert their attention from
the real point of attack. Everything being arranged,
the battle commenced about three o'clock in the
afternoon, ])y our party, (that is, Nichols',) falling on
the rear uf the enemy's left. We went up to our
work as men should do. No regular troops could
have done it better. We marched through their fire

P

226 THE CAMP-FIRE

steadily, and the rest of our forces followed the ex*
ample. The Indians, seeing they were about to be
enclosed between the parties of Herrick and Nichols,
broke away almost as soon as we began to move.
They do n't know anything about that sort of fighting.
As soon as General Stark heard our firing, — one of
his men told me this, after the battle, — he said, as
he pointed to the enemy, he ^ would gain the victory
over them, or Molly Stark should be a widow that
night;' and then he rushed upon the tories. From
the time the battle commenced, till it was over, the
fire was kept up continually. One constant roar, for
two hours, was almost all that could be heard. I
confess, I felt rather strange. I had never seen any-
thing of the kind before. But I didn't think of
running. I always had a good share of courage;
and nothing would have cut me deeper than having
it said I was a coward. I pressed on fearlessly with
the men at my side. I do n't know what you call
*' skirmishing,' Seth; but if you had seen us raw
militia walk up to the cannon's mouth, and fight over
the breastwork, with the veterans of Germany, I
do n't think you would have called it by such a name
as ' skirmishing.' "

"'^ Did you and the rest march up to the cannon's
mouth ?" enquired Seth.

" Yes ; raw militia, without a single field-piece, and
very few bagonets, marched up to the breastwork aa

AT SARATOGA. 227

steadily as veterans, and in a heavy fire, too/' replied
Hadley.

" I give up ; it was more than a skirmish, then,"
said Seth, generously.

"I 'm glad to hear you say so," returned Hadley.
*^ You knew very little about the affair, I suppose,
when you made the remark. But, to go on with my
account. General Stark soon drove the tories over
the river, and they were thus thrown in confusion on
the Germans, who were forced from their breastwork-
The German commander was a really brave man,
and he made his men stand up to receive us. His
dragoons preserved their order unbroken ; and when
all their ammunition was gone, their colonel led them
to the charge with the sword. You see, these were
Reidesel's dragoons, who were without horses, but
were to be supplied with them, in case Baum should
be successful. Well, we pushed them so hard, that
they had to give way at last, leaving their artillery
and baggage on the field. We all knew how much
depended on our beating the enemy in that battle.
We were fighting for our homes ; and most of us
would rather have died, than we should have been
defeated. Besides, just before the battle, General
Stark promised the militia all the plunder that might
be taken. This served as an additional incentive to
action, and the men went at the foe as if they were
certain of victory, and had no idea of being defeated."

228 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Did you pursue the inemy ?" asked Looney.

" No/' replied Hadley. " They had no sooner been
driven from the field, than we dispersed to collect
the plunder. Guns, drums, bayonets, broadswords,
and other things, belonging to the Hessians, were
scattered all over the field, and we secured them in a
hurry, I tell you. I 've got a splendid gun and bago-
net at home, that I took for my share of the spoils.
I had an ugly, heavy, grenadier's hat, that made me
wonder how the Hessians managed to walk under
them, but I gave it away. It was about ^ve o'clock,
when we dispersed in the way I told you. Suddenly,
the news was brought that a large reinforcement of
Hessians was on the march towards the battle-field,
and that Baum's flying troops had rallied. The rein-
forcement was under the command of Colonel Brey-
man, the brave German ofiicer that was killed here at
Stillwater, the other day. They had been detained
by the rain and the badness of the roads, and just
happened to arrive as their friends were defeated. I
suppose they must have been very much worn with
marching ; and that, together with the disappointment
of finding Baum defeated, helped, no doubt, to put
them in low spirits. General Stark tried all he could
to collect the militia ; but if Colonel Warner's regi-
ment had not arrived on the field just as Breyman
uppeared, the day would have been turned against
118. Warner's regiment numbered less than two bun-

AT SARATOGA. ' 229

dred. They were not manyj but they were fresh;
and they fell upon the enemy with great vigor. I
was among those who were rallied by General Stark,
and we pushed forward to the assistance of "Warner.
Then followed an obstinate and bloody contest. The
Germans stood their ground bravely. Baum was
wounded and made prisoner. General Stark's horse
was shot under him, as he was in the thickest of the
fight, cheering the men. The day was very warm, it
being in August ; and it was a wonder to me, how
those Hessians could fight when they were fully
equipped. About sunset, the enemy were forced to
give way ; and then, feeling sure of victory, we pur-
sued them, as they fled in every direction, till dark,
when General Stark was obliged to draw off the men,
for fear they might shoot each other, in mistake.
The whole force sent against us, was either killed,
captured, or dispersed."

'' What was their actual loss ?" asked Seth. " No
exaggeration, now."

" I can prove what I 'm going to tell you, if you
doubt it," replied Iladley. " There was two hundred
and seven killed on the spot, and about seven hun-
dred prisoners taken. The wounded were not esti-
mated. It is said that Burgoyne lately acknowledged
a loss of 1220 men by that day's battle, though I
cannot vouch for the truth of the statement. Our
loss was only thirty killed and forty wounded.'*
20

230 THE CAMP-FIRE

" That was a splendid victory for raw troops (o
acliieve, — there 's no mistake about it/' said Ephraim,
taking a long pufF of his pipe before he spoke. " I
suppose the credit is due almost entirely to General
Stark."

" Yes, he was the spirit that brought it all about/'
replied Hadley. " He infused an ardor into the men,
that no other leader could have inspired them with.
They knew what sort of a man their leader was, and
what he expected of them; and they came up to
expectation. I shall never forget his appearance
when he was trying to rally the ^dispersed militia.
His face was flushed, even at the thought of the day's
turning against us. ^Come, men/ said he, Hhrow
down your spoils and make the day sure. You can
whip them, and you must!' How he dashed to
Warner's assistance, as soon as he had rallied a little
band around him! He, no doubt, remembered his
determination to win the day, or die in the attempt."

" That battle shows what a few determined men
can do, even without the equipments of an army,"
remarked Seth.

"I suppose you had more spile, after the second
fight, than you had before," said Looney.

" Oh, plenty of it," returned Hadley. " We took
four pieces of brass cannon. When the first one was
taken, none of the men knew how to manage it ; and
Stark went and attended to it himself. That 's what

AT SARATOGA. 231

makes the thing more laughable. Men who did n't
know how to manage a cannon after they had cap-
tured it, drove regular soldiers from behind breast-
works defended with cannon ! Then there was about
three hundred stand of arms, two hundred and fifty
dragoon swords, four ammunition wagons, and twelve
brass drums, captured ; and most of them fell to the
troops."

" I wish we had something drinkable," remarked
Ephraim. " I 'd like to drink the General's health."

"Ah !" ejaculated Looney, smacking his lips, "whis-
key would be the darlin' to do it wid. But it 's of no
use ; we can't git any."

" Well," said Hadley, " we '11 make an engagement
to drink his health with the first liquor we get a
chance at. Mind 3^ou — 'the health of Brigadier-Gen-
eral John Stark,' must be your first drink."

" Och, we '11 mind it," returned Looney. " I think
we 'd better let the fire go out, and go in, though. 1
fale like slapin' a wink."

" Hold on a bit, Looney," said Seth ; " Eph says
he 's going to sing us a song first."

" Who said so ?" enquired Ephraim ; anxiously
waiting to be coaxed to sing.

"Oh, come, no blarney," said Looney; "sing away
wid ye, mon "

" Do, Eph," added Josiah, " I want to hear a good

232 THE CAMP-FIRE

But Ephraim would wait for more coaxing; and
nobody appearing anxious to humor him, Hadley
said : —

'• Since Epliraim won't sing, I '11 volunteer to sing
you a song I learned not a great while ago. It's
about the subject that has interested you to-night —
the battle of Bennington."

Ephraim looked somewhat abashed at this, but said
nothing.

"I don't pretend to sing," said Hadley; "so I
do n't v/ant you to find fault with my voice or manner
of singing."

" Divil a bit," returned Looney. " Go on wid ye ;"
and Hadley trolled out, in a very ordinary voice, the
following song, commemorative of the battle of Ben-
nington : —

Kemember the glories of patriots brave,

Though the days of the heroes are o'er;
Long lost to their country, and cold in their grave,

They retui-n to their kindred no more.
The stars of the field, which in victory pour'd

Their beams on the battle, are set;
But enough of their glory remains on each sword

To light us to victory yet!

"Wollansac! when nature embellish'd the tint

Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tjTant should print

The footsteps of slavery there?

AT SARATOGA. 233

No ! Freedom, whose smiles we shall never resign,

Told those who invaded our plains,
That 't is sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,

Than to sleep for a moment in chains.

Forget not the chieftain of Hampshire, who stood

In the day of distress by our side;
Nor the heroes who nourish'd the fields with their blood.

Nor the rights they secured as they died.
The sun that now blesses our eyes with his light,

Saw the martyrs of liberty slain;
0, let him not blush when he leaves us to-night,

To find that they fell there in vain !

" Good !" exclaimed the Irishman ; briefly express-
ing his satisfA'ction, when Hadley had concluded.

"The words are strongly patriotic," remarked
Ephraim, "' and the tune passable. Your account of
the battle of Bennington has filled me with such an
admiration of General Stark, that I '11 have to learn
that song, if it 's only to glorify him."

" I '11 learn it to all of you, some other time," said
Hadley. "Let's go in, now; it must be about ten
o'clock."

The fire had Ijcen gradually dying out, while the
men were engaged in conversation, and the last few
embers were paling their light by this time. The
whole five went into the tent, to seek repose for the
night. Most of the fires had been extinguished long
before, and the deep shadow of the wood enveloped

234

TEE CAM P- FIRE AT SARATOGA.

the greater part of the encampment in gloom. Upon
the clearing, near the edge of the hill — for the de-
scent was very steep — three or four fires had been
kept burning, by the sentinels on duty, to warm and
light them in their lonely walk

Bu/goyne's Surreadar.

i'liiludfljiliia.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT M I. D D L E B R K.

The campaign of 1778 having closed, the American
army went into winter quarters. Nine brigades were
stationed on the west side of the Hudson River, ex-
clusive of the garrison at West Point. One of those
brigades was quartered near Smith's Cove, where it
could serve as a reinforcement to West Point, should
it be necessary ; another, at Elizabethtown ; and the
remaining seven, at Middlebrook ; which place was
likewise selected for head-quarters. Six brigades
were cantoned on the east side of the Hudson, and
at ^yest Point, as follows: — one at West Point; two
at the Continental Village, a post between Fishkill
and West Point ; and three in the vicinity of Dan-
bury, in Connecticut. The artillery was at Plucke-
min. A line of cantonments was thus formed around
New York, from Long Island Sound to the Delaware,
so disposed as to give security to the country, and to
reinforce each other, in case of an incursion of the
enemy to any particular point. Another object at-
tained by this arrangement, was the easy subsistence

(230)

236 THE CAilP-FIRE

of the troops. General M'Dougal commanded in the
Highlands, and General Putnam at Danbury.

Until February of 1779, the troops at Middlebrook
were obliged to live in canvass tents, suffering ex-
tremely from exposure to cold and storms. By that
time, the soldiers had completed some log huts, which
gave them a comfortable shelter for the rest of the
winter. These huts were erected by the soldiers,
v/ithout tools, except the axe and saw ; and a descrip-
tion of their manner of building them may not prove
uninteresting. They were constructed of the trunks
of trees, cut into various lengths, according to the
size of the building for which they' were intended,
and firmly connected by notches cut in their extre-
mities, after the manner of dovetailing. The spaces
between the logs were filled in with plastering, con-
sisting of mud and clay. The roof was formed of
similar pieces of timber, and covered with hewn slabs.
The chimney, situated at one end of the house, was
made of similar, but smaller timbers ; and both the
inner and the outer sides were covered with clay
plaster, to defend the wood against the fire. The
doors and windows were formed by sawing away a
part of the logs where the openings were required,
and the pieces sawed out were then arranged to move
on wooden hinges. The huts were placed in straight
lines ; thus forming a regular, uniform, and compact
village. The officers' huts were situated in front of

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 237

the line, according to their rank. The kitchens were
in the rear, and the whole was similar in form to a
tent encampment. The ground, for a considerable
distance in front of the soldiers' line of huts, was
cleared of wood, stumps, and rubbish, and every
morning swept clean, for the purpose of a parade-
ground and roll-call of the respective regiments. The
officers' huts were in general divided into two apart-
ments, and were occupied by three or four officers,
who composed one mess. Those occupied by the
privates had but one room, which contained ten or
twelve men, with their cabins or bunks, which were
placed one above another, against the walls, and J&lled
with straw, and a blanket for each man.

It was February ; and fires were burning in every
hut at Middlebrook. It was night, too; and each
lowly habitation had its group of men seated around
the fire, which blazed up cheerfully, shedding light
and heat around. The soldiers could well appreciate
the comforts of these huts, after living in the slight
canvass tents that had served them for their former
habitations. No duubt they thought of peace, and
all the enjoyments of a quiet fireside, while lolling
around their fires, of an evening, cracking jokes and
relating adventures; l)ut if they did, it must have
been only to vent imprecations on the heads of tlie
tyrants who had forced them into their present situa-
tion. Strange characters were sometimes joined in

238 THE CAMP-FIRE

the same mesS;, v/liicli tended to make their conversa-
tion a better study than is usually afforded. There
was one, in particular, which bore this character.
The mess we speak of, occupied a hut at one ex-
tremity of the encampment. It was composed of the
most incongruous characters that could have been
found anywhere. A backwoodsman, (the people of
the western part of New York were called ^back-
woodsmen,' in those days,) an Irishman, several Yan-
kees, and various others, from the Middle States,
including a Conestoga farmer, from Pennsylvania, a
broken-down literary gentleman, from New York, and
others, whose previous occupations were of a very
doubtful character.

Upon the particular night of which we speak, the
elements were at war out of doors — the wind blow-
ing fiercely, and snow and rain falling ; j ust such a
night as is calculated to make us enjoy a good fire
and pleasant company. The mess were seated around
the fire, in a semicircle ; seated, we say, but only
after a fashion. There were a few boards laid in
front of the fire, upon which the most of them were
half-sitting, half-lying. There was evidently a sort
of respect manifested for the quondam literary man,
as there generally is for the man " who writes for the
papers." His opinions, expressed in better language
than his comrades could command, and delivered in a
very confident manner, were always listened to with

AT MIDDLEEROOK. 239

grave attention, and they generally decided the oft-
recurring disputes between the members of the mess.
They were discussing some of the events of the pre-
ceding campaign; but their principal topic was the
battle at Monmouth Court-House, the great event of
that campaign.

" Well, Conestogey," said one of the Yankees, " you
may talk away there, as much as your thick Dutch
tongue will let you — I tell you, it 's a fact."

The Yankee was evidently endeavoring to make
the Pennsylvanian swallow a rather knotty yarn.

" Come, come," remarked another of the company,
" that 's a pretty good one for you, Josiah, but it 's
bad money ; it won't pass !"

" Well, if you do n't b'lieve it, there 's an end of
it," returned Josiah.

"What's that he don't believe?" enquired the
literary man, rousing himself from a state of musing,
or listlessness, into which he had fallen.

" Why," replied Josiah, '' I was tellin' 'em about a
red-coat that I killed at the battle of Monmouth, in
an outlandish kind of a way. He got separated from
his troop, and so did T ; but it seemed as how he
warn't of the right grit. He went skulkin' around
among the trees, afeared to show himself, when I
caught sight on him. There was two trees atwcen
me and him ; but as I had a pretty good sort of a fire-
lock with me, I did n't think about waitin' till 1 had

240

THE CAMP-FIRE

a better cliaiice^ so I let drive at him ; and sour my
uncle's milk, if the ball did n't go aclean through both
trees, and lodged right plump in the breast of the
red-coat — killin' him on the spot."

"About how thick were those trees, Josiah ?" asked
the literary man, critically

"'Divil a bit o' difference to him," put in the Hiber-
nian, who had been listening to the conversation.

" Well," replied Josiah, without paying any atten-
tion to the Irishman's remark, " I guess abeout a foot
through."

" Well, I never !" ejaculated another of the ' down-
e asters.' *

"Naw, naw," said the grum Conestoga farmer,
shaking his head.

" Josiah," sai'd iho^ king of the mess, the literary
man, looking severely at the down-easter, " it 's im-
possible to do anything of the sort, and you never did
do it. Let your next story have a little probability
in it, or we '11 make you keep your talk to yourself."

" Well, all I 've got to say is, that it 's a fact," re-
plied Josiah; "but as you don't seem to like my
story, suppose you tell one, yourself."

"Yes, do," said the backwoodsman, who had re-
mained quiet till now, "I like to hear you tell a
story ; you can talk like a lawyer, right to the p'int,
without any flummery."

"Ah, boys/' said the literary man, sighing, "IVe

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 2'11

seen the day when I would not yield to anybody the
superiority in the telling of a story, or writing one,
either — but that 's past now ; and as I feel my years
growing upon me, I also feel the decline of my
powers. I '11 do my best to amuse you, however, if
you '11 only make allowances."

The men nodded their heads, in acquiescence, for
they really did like to hear him talk. It was very
seldom that they came across a man, among the com-
mon soldier}^, who possessed his quality of tongue.
He was probably one of a class of men, who, though
possessed of real talent, have such a shrinking nature,
such a distrust of their own abilities, that they never
aspire to rank among the higher class of intellects,
but content themselves with living and acting among
a class who are much their inferiors. Had he pos-
sessed confidence enough, no doubt he might have
obtained a commission in the army ; but he had not
that quality, and therefore was among the privates.
After clearing his throat, and replenishing tlic fire
with a few more sticks of wood, he commenced : —

" Tlie mention of the battle at Monmouth Court-
House, called to my mind various incidents which
occurred on that day ; some of these, I presume, one
or two of you are acquainted with ; but tlie otliers,
I know, did not come under your notice. Those of
you who were present at the battle, were, according
to your own account, with General Greene. I hap-

21 Q

242 THE CAMP-FIRE

pened to be with tlie left wing of the army, under
General Lee. What I'm going to tell you about, are
the incidents that occurred to the left wing of our
army, that day. You know that we retreated, and
that that retreat prevented us from achieving a
glorious victory. The retreat was a mistake of
General Scott's judgment 5 he thought a movement
on his right, made by a portion of our troops, w^as a
retreat. AVe fell back across a morass, and through
a wood, which we were to have occupied. As soon
as General Lee was informed of our retreat, he ex-
pressed his disapprobation of General Scott's conduct,
in strong terms ; but, instead of endeavoring to regain
the ground that Scott had lost, he sent word to La-
fayette to meet him at the court-house, and continued
to fall back towards a point w^here he proposed to
make a stand. The day was excessively warm, and
the continued marching of the troops, beneath the
blazing sun, and through sand knee-deep, caused
many a poor fellow to drop down, never to rise again.
A comrade of mine, Ben Hansel, was among the
number. He and I had enlisted together; we had
passed side by side through the same battles; and
when I was wounded, he watched over me like a
brother; he knew I would have done the same for
him. I saw Ben fall, and I could n't go on with the
troops, and let him die alone and untended, like a
cast-off dog. I went to the captain, and begged him,

AT MIDDLE BROOK. 243

for God's sake, to let me stop and assist poor Ben,
that I might save his life, if possible. The captain
was a humane man; he sympathized with me, but
said that we needed all the men we could get. He
said there was no hope of Ben's recovery, and that I
could n't be spared just then. I persisted in entreat-
ing him ; but he said he m^ust not forget his duty, and
refused me any further hearing. I struggled for
awhile between my friendship for poor Ben and my
obedience to the captain's dictates ; but friendship
triumphed in the end ; and, watching my opportunity,
I dropped away from the company, and hastened back
to where poor Ben laid. He had dragged himself to
a bank beneath a tree, by the roadside ; and there he
lay, gasping for breath, his face fmshed extremely,
and his limbs lying perfectly useless. I knew that
he had not a great while to live, as soon as I looked
at him. I had suffered a good deal from the heat
and toil of marching, and knew that I was stronger
than Ben ; for he had experienced a long spell of
sickness. I rushed up to him, and unfastened his
jacket and vest, so as to give him a*; much air as pos-
sible. He knew me at once, and as he languidly
opened his eyes, gasped out, ^ Is that you, Jack ?' I
answered him, and told him I had contrived to get
away, to take care of him. ' God bless you for it,
Jack,' he mnnnured, * but it's of little use — I'm
going fast.' 1 tried to comfort him as much as 1

244 THE CAMP-FIEE

could ; but I needed more comfort than I could give ;
for Ben was the truest friend I ever had^ and I was
going to lose him. I felt his hand ; it was growing
cold. He managed to gasp a request for water ; and
I left him for a few minutes, while I went in search
of some. I found a brook near by, and returned to
Ben, with a cup-full of the water. I always carried
a small tin cup with me, when on duty. I held the
cup to his parched lips, and he sipped it slowly, till
it seemed to revive him a little. ^Jack,' said he,
^ you Ve been a true friend to me, and there 's a re-
ward for such as you. When you go to Philadelphia
again, go and see my wife; and tell Mary that I
thought of her as long as God gave me power to
think. You '11 find, in my pocket, a love-knot of her
hair and mine — take that to her ; and do you, Jack,
take anything that I have about me, to make you
think of me sometimes.' I promised him all he
asked, and he wrung my hand with the little strength
he had left. I shed tears ; I could n't help it."

" You 're a man for doin' that same," interrupted
the Irishman, who, like all the rest, had been deeply
interested in the narrative. The literary gentleman
brushed a tear from his eye, and proceeded : —

"Ben had just strength enough left to murmur,
'God bless you. Jack— God bless my wife !' and his
limbs stiffened, and I felt the hand I held grow cold ;
he was dead. I wept for awhile over the body of my

■L llii.!li!: i".:J i 'jiiliii. )i li,| (li| )i. !i <ai Lla,lJ„Lii...i .

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 245

old comrade, and then I was forced to leave it. My
company had long been out of sight, but I made all
the haste I could to overtake them. They must have
taken a very roundabout road, for nought could I see
of them. I was fearful of falling into the hands of
the enemy, and so I thought it best to take to the
wood for cover. I passed cautiously through it, till I
came near the edge of it, when I climbed a tall pine,
to look around me before I proceeded further. There,
just without the wood, I saw a squadron of horse,
and a party of officers, whom I knew were Americans.
Upon closer scrutiny, I discovered the figure of the
commander-in-chief, who was evidently engaged in an
altercation with another officer. This, I afterwards
ascertained, was General Lee, to whom Washington
was addressing some very indignant remarks. Lee
seemed to be very much excited by General Wash-
ington's language; but Washington rode away soon
after, followed by his aids. I knew, from seeing some
of our troops who were under the command of Lee,
that I could not be far off from my regiment, and I
therefore descended the tree, and walked cautiously
to the edge of the wood, when I could see the bat-
talions under the command of Colonels Stewart and
Ramsay, who had been ordered to form, by Washing-
ton, and, under cover of the corner of the wood, to
await the approach of the British. I took a circuitous
route through the wood, and joined my company
21*

246 THE CAMP-FIRE

without being observed by the captain. The men, I
knew, would not inform on me. The British pressed
on us close, and their light horse came down on us
with such a force, that we broke and fled. We had
to give way so fast, that we came out of the wood
almost mixed up with the enemy. Livingston's regi-
ment and Yarnum's brigade had been stationed along
the fence and in the open field, in front of the bridge
over the morass, across which we had retreated be-
fore, and they received the British with a heavy fire ;
while the artillery, that had retired to the rear of the
fence, poured some grape-shot into them. But they
came on wdtli a force we could not withstand ; and a
charge of their horse, broke Livingston's and Yar-
num's troops, who had covered our retreat, and they
retired. Colonel Ogden had been ordered to take a
position in the wood nearest the bridge, and to defend
that post to the last extremity, in order to cover the
retreat of the whole over the bridge ; and he executed
his orders to the letter. We all retreated safely over
the bridge, and advanced to take a position on an
eminence to which Lee had been directed. The Gen-
eral was one of the last men on the field, and brought
ofi" the rear himself. He was a brave man, whatever
his faults may have been, and sustained his reputa-
tion admirably during the rest of the day. The
stand we had made, though a very short one, served
to check the advance of the enemy, and to give time

AT MIDDLEBROOK

247

to form the left wing and second line of the main
army, in the wood and on the hill to which Lee was
ordered. But you are nearly all acquainted with
most of the other events of that day's fight, and I '11
not repeat them. I saw Washington several times,
in the thickest part of the action, where the bullets
were whistling around him, and many of the soldiers
fighting hand to hand. He was encouraging the
men, and giving his orders with the calmness he
always exhibits in the hour of danger. His white
horse and his tall form ofi*ered a good mark for the
enemy ; but he was unharmed. Night overtook us
in the midst of a movement to attack the British in
the strong position to which they had retreated, and
we laid upon our arms during the night, with the in-
tention of attacking them next morning. Never
were men more desirous of rest than we. We were
almost worn out by the heat of the weather and the
toil of marching and fighting. I laid down among
the rest; but although I was as tired as the most of
them, I could n't slcc p. The moon was shining clear
and beautiful in the sky above, and everything on
the field was visible to me. I was half-sitting, half-
lying on the ground, pretty much in the same position
as at present, musing on the scene presented to my
eye, and on the events of the day. Among the su]>
jects of my thoughts, was poor Ben Hansel, of whose
death I told you ; I thought of his young wife, and

248 THE CAMP-FIRE

i'

the message I was to convey to her, if I ever returned
to Philadelphia. I had no wife of my own, but I
could appreciate Ben's devotion to her, truly ; and I
thought that perhaps she was looking at that moon
above me, and wondering how many moons would
pass away before her husband returned to her. The
sentinels were pacing on the outside of the lines of
sleeping soldiers ; and as I looked at them, I thought
how tired the poor fellows must be, and how anxious
for their time to expire, that they might be relieved.
I felt a little rested myself, and got up and offered to
relieve one of them, and he accepted the offer grate-
fully ; lying down near where I was to act as sentinel,
in order, I supposed, to guard against treachery,
which the offer, at such a time, no doubt, had sug-
gested to him. I soon discovered the cause of his
carefulness. Under a tree, within my range, lay the
form of the commander-in-chief. He was wrapped
in his cloak, and had a soldier's knapsack under his
head, for a pillow. There he lay, evidently sleeping
as soundly and sweetly as an infant. No one would
have thought that the man who was there sleeping
so calmly, had that day directed the movements of a
large army, and had fought among them, in the most
dangerous and best-contested positions. Men, let me
tell you, the man who has that much command over
himself, must be a great man. I couldn't sleep,
though very tired, because of my little troubles ; yet

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 249

this man, to whom a nation looked as its support^
slept quietly as the ocean in the calm that sometimes
succeeds the storm."

" Well, you 're not done ; are you ?" enquired one
of the down-easters, as the narrator paused. He did
not answer immediately, but seemed wrapped in deep
thought.

'^ Did you see your friend's wife, 'cordin' to pro-
mise ?" asked the backwoodsman, who had been much
interested in the narrative of Ben's death.

"All in good time, men," replied the narrator.
" You know the British decamped during the night,
without our knowledge. The main body of the army
afterwards drew off to the borders of the North
Biver. I tried to get permission from the commander
of the regiment, to go to Philadelphia ; but I could
not. I therefore wrote a letter to Ben's wife, giving
an account of his death, and enclosed the love-knot
formed of their hair. Soon after, I received a letter
from her, full of expressions of gratitude to me, and
grief for the loss of her husband. She asked me to
keep up a correspondence with her, as she was now
alone in the world, and I had been her husband's
friend ; and I accordingly have done so ever since.'*

"Then," said the Hibernian, '^ yow must give us a
i)it o' the cake, when the weddin' comes off."

The listeners laughed, l)ut the person addressed did
not give the remark any attention. No doubt, he

250

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLED ROOK,

was imagining the war over, and a neat little cottage
by the side of a stream, with his friend's wife under
his protection.

" Noting like a goot vrow dat can work/' remarked
the Conestoga farmer.

" "Well, men," said the literary man, rousing him-
self. " It 's about time for us to bunk. We '11 fix the
fire, and then turn in."

The fire was arranged for the night, and the mess
sought their comfortable bunks. There, revelling in
dreams of the battle of Monmouth, and poor Ben and
his wife^ we leave them for the present.

Geiierai Charles Lee.

Washington's Head-Quarters at Toppan.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLEBROOK.

( C N T I X U E D. )

The next niglit after the one on which we intro-
duced the mess at Middlebrook to the reader, they
were gathered around the fire, as usual. The Penn-
sylvanian, looking grum as possible ; the Irishman,
humming a rollicking reel-tune ; the literary man,
musing, with his head resting on his hands, and
looking vacantly at the fire ; the Yankees from Con-
necticut, trying to outdo the backwoodsman, with
the strength of their yarns ; and the remainder, half
asleep, presented a picture for the painter, and for
which the pen is inadequate.

'- Och, murther, l)ut this is a slapey way o' doin'
the business," said the Irishman. " Won t some of
yez sing, or tell us a story, or do any thin' to make
life amongst yez?"

Nobody answered the appeal of the Irishman ; and

he was on tlie ponit of commencing the '' Boys of

Kilkenny," or the '' Sprig of Shillelah," when he was

prevented, Ijy one of the party volunteering to give

(251)

252 THE CAMP-FIRE

an account of an adventure in which he was a parti-
cipant. The Irishman was very willing to forego the
pleasure of hearing himself sing, and all were ready
to hear anything capable of amusing them.

" "What 's it abeout ?" enquired one of the indivi-
duals from Connecticut.

" Is there a lady in it ?" said another of the com-
pany.

" No insinuations," returned the literary gentleman,
raising himself from his musing position. " Go on
with your narrative," he continued, addressing the
volunteer.

" Well," commenced that individual, after fixing
himself in a comfortable position, "you must know,
it was about two years ago, while the armies were
manoeuvring at Saratoga, expecting a battle every
day, I resided on my father's farm, in the vicinity. I
had not joined the army under Gates, because my
parents were getting old, and I could not be spared.
There was a good many young men living near me,
who were anxious to join the army and fight for their
country, but were prevented by circumstances of a
like character. However, we often formed parties to
capture picket-guards and foraging detachments, be-
longing to the British, and sometimes to annoy those
of the neighbors who professed an attachment to the
royal cause; thus serving our country, though we
could not do so, regularly, in the field. It is one of

AT MIDDLEBROOK. Zo6

these adventures that I 'm going to tell you about.
There was about twenty of us who assembled regu-
larly, upon four nights of the week. Our farm was
generally the meeting-place, and there we planned
the excursions we made. Intelligence was brought
us, by one of our number, that there was an advance
picket-guard of the British stationed on the north
bank of the Middle Ravine, (or Mill Creek, as it was
sometimes called,) which consisted of about thirty
men ; and he suggested that it would be an easy thing
to surprise them. The prospect of an adventure
heartily pleased us all ; and we resolved to undertake
it, if for nothing else, for the sake of the frolic. Ac-
cordingly, everything was arranged, and the next
night was set apart for the undertaking. Our farm
was selected as the rendezvous, and every man was
ordered to provide himself with a fowling-piece, and
plenty of powder and shot. Bill Hurley, the oldest
and most experienced one of the band, was selected
for the post of captain. I was the lieutenant. Every-
thing was kept secret till the next night arrived.
We assembled, about an hour before dark, in the
woods near our house. All were equipped according
to agreement, and Bill Hurley had brought with him
something for the party's refreshment — nothing less
tliau a bottle of old rye whiskey, with a long swig of
which, we put ourselves in tune for the work. We
started, and marched silently and cautiously through
22

254 THE CAMP-FIRE

the wood ; each man carrying his fowling-piece in hid
hand, and the whole party walking in Indian hie.
Bill Hurley had also brought with him an old horse-
trumpet; though for what purpose, he did not ex-
plain. After marching about an hour, the captain
gave us notice that the picket was not far off, and
sent one of the party to reconnoitre, while the rest
of us halted till we heard his report. He soon re-
turned, and informed us that we were near the edge
of the wood, and that directly beyond it was the
picket-guard, without the least appearance of prepa-
ration for an enemy, or suspicion of the approach of
one. The captain immediately gave us directions
how we were to make the attack, and exhorted us all
to do our duty. We did n't need much exhorting,
however j we were too anxious to make the attack.
We advanced silently to the edge of the wood, creep-
ing among the bushes wherever there was a chance
to do so, till we caught sight of the British coats. It
was just about twilight; and it was evident, from the
manner in which the enemy were disposed around —
some talking in groups, leaning on their guns ; and
others, feeling still more secure than the rest, lying
on the ground — that they were unsuspicious of the
vicinity of danger. Suddenly, Bill Hurley blew a
tremendous blast on the old horse-trumpet, and the
whole party of us rushed out of the buvshes, yelling
and howling like a whole tribe of Indians going into

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 255

battle. Our captain cried out, at the top of his voice,
'•Ground your arms, or you're all dead men !' and the
ehemy immediately surrendered. No doubt, they
thought half of the American army was upon them,
from the noise we made. We soon made sure of their
arms, and then marched them oif to the American
camp, like regular prisoners of war. We laughed
and joked the whole way there, about British soldiers
surrendering to a few young farmers, who never were
on a field of battle in their lives ; and they seemed
to feel their degradation. The soldiers in camp wel-
comed us with shouts, and we delivered our prisoners
into their custody. Few parties ever had a more
jolly time of- it, than we had that night, after we
returned home. We roused up the folks at our house,
and had a glorious frolic, in eating and drinking, and
dancing. That was only one of our excursions, but
it '11 do for a specimen."

When the New-Yorker had concluded his story, he
replenished the fire, and fixed his e}es on it, as a
means of diverting attention from hiiiLself. as modest
men sometimes do, after they have occupied the com-
pany with their conversation for a length of time.

" That must liave been a bold fellow, that captain
of yours," observed the backwoodsman. •* It takes a
confounded sight of pluck, to undertake to capture
thirty British sokliers, with twenty farmers, whose
only weapons are fowling-pieces."

256 THE CAMP-FIRE

"He wasn't alone in his boldness," returned the
narrator of the incident. " We were all as anxious
to attack the picket, and as bold in doing it, as he
was."

" Well," said Josiah, who had been listening to the
story with an incredulity natural to those who are in
the habit of violating the truth, " 1 11 be darned if I
believe it. It ain't one bit more nateral than my
story about shootin* that red-coat through two trees,
each a foot thick ; you critters would n't swaller that,
and I '11 be darned if you ought n't to throw up at
this one !"

" Come, come," interposed the literary man, " have
some conscience, Josiah. This story is very probable.
There have been many such incidents during the war.
Some have come under my own notice. But nobody
can believe your story, because it's impossible for
such a feat to be done."

" Well," replied Josiah, with the air of a man who,
his credit being called in question, considers it of
little moment, " hev it your own way, as the man said
when he was beatin' his horse, and the horse would
turn round."

" Yes," said the backwoodsman, " we will have it
our own way ; but do n't you beat us with any more
such yarns as that, or we '11 beat you !"

"Oh, come, don't let's have any more talking
about the matter. It 's not worth it," observed the

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 257

literary gentleman, with his usual decisive judgment.
" Will any of you sing ?"

No one answering the appeal, the speaker said he
would sing, himself, though he had no voice for sing-
ing, and, besides, had a bad cold. The company
listened to these excuses as things of course, and the
volunteer, after sundry other indispensable prelimi-
naries, proceeded with a song very popular during
the Revolutionary war, and which, he said, would do
more credit to his patriotism than his literary taste.

The day is broke; my boys, push on,
And follow, follow Washington,

'Tis he that leads the way,

'Tis he that leads the wayj

When he commands, we will obey,
Through rain or snow, by night or day,

Determined to be free.

Determined to be free.

Kind Providence our troops inspires
• With more than Greek or Roman fires,

Until our cause prevails.
Until our cause prevails.

Ileaven has favor'd a virtuous few,
The tyrant's legions to subdue;

For justice never fails,

For justice never fails.

22* K

258 THE CAMP-FIRE

With heart and hand, and God our trust,
We'll freely fight — our cause is just.

Push on, my boys, push on,

Push on, my boys, push on!

Till Freedom reigns, our hearty bands
Will fight like true Americans,

And follow, follow Washington,

And follow, follow Washington.

'^That's one of the songs of '76," remarked tlie
singer, when he had concluded. " That was written
soon after the surrender of the Hessians, at Tren-
ton."

" We 're to credit it to you, as original, I suppose ?"
asked the New-Yorker.

"You needn't mind that," replied the literary
man. The song will do tolerably well to amuse a
mess like this, but nothing more."

^^Ah! I see how it is — your modesty prevents
you from claiming it," said the New-Yorker.

""Well," said the literary man, anxious to divert
attention from his song, " some of you must follow.
Josiah, can't you give us a song ? we 're not hard to
please."

" Oh," replied Josiah, " my singin's so orful bad ;
oesides, I do n't know nothin' but ' Yankee Doodle,'
and ^ Come out, ye Continentallers.' "

" Well, we ain't tired of hearin' them 'ere songs ;

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 2-j9

just drive ahead with one of 'em/' said the back-
woodsman.

"Anything to keep the pot a b'ilin'/' added one of
the Yankees.

Cheered on by these observations, Josiah sang, in
the peculiarly nasal tones of the people of New Eng-
land, the following song : —

COME OUT, YE COX TIN ENTAILERS.

Come out, ye continentallers !

We're going for to go
To fight the red-coat enemy,

Who 're plaguy "cute/' you know.

Now, shoulder whoop ! — eyes right and dress —

Front! — Davis, wipe your nose —
Port whoop ! — that 's slick — now, can-y whoop !

Mike Jones, turn out your toes.

Charge bag'nct ! — that 's your sort, my boys :
Now, quick time ! — march I — that \s right ,

Just so we 'd poke the enemy,
If they were but in sight.

Halt ! — shoulder whoop ! — stop laughing, Nick —

By platoons, wheel ! — halt — dress !
Hold up your muzzles on the left;

No talking, more or less.

liill Sneezer, keep your canteen down,
We're going for to travel;

260 . THE CAMP-FIRE

"Captain, I wants to halt a bit,
My shoe is full of gravel/

Ho! — strike up, music — forVd march I

Now point your toes, Bob Rogers;
See! yonder are the red-coat men —

Let fly upon 'em, sogers.

The men laughed over this song for about the
hundredth time. It pictures the first marching of
some of the " awkward squad," enlisted for the con-
tinental service, and was intended to ridicule the
militia in general.

"That's a never-tirin' song/' observed the back-
woodsman.

"Almost as good as Yankee Doodle/' added Josh.

" I wonder if Josh did n't belong to that company T
enquired the New-Yorker.

"Ah, you oughter seen our company the day we
left Longville," returned Josiah. " Sich a time among
the gals and their fellers, and sich a fixin' o' guns and
rusty swords, a-tryin' to look smart, was never seen
on airth afore."

" You were a fierce-looking set of men, no doubt,"
observed the literary man ; and then, wishing to give
a more instructive turn to the conversation, he asked
Josiah where the first place at which they were en-
gaged was.

" Newport was the first place where we were put

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 2G1

in service. It was last August. There it was that
that 'tarnal French count backed out with his fleet,"
replied Josiah.

^' Can't you give us some account of that attack,
and the reason of its failure ?" continued the literary
man.

" Well," answered Josiah, " the reason of the thing's
fallin' through, was nothin' more nor less than the
backin' out of the French mountseers, as I told you
afore. It warn't the fault of our troops, no how.
But I '11 tell you how it was, and all abeout it. You
see. General Sullivan commanded the troops at Pro-
vidence, in Rhode Island ; and when it was agreed
that there should be an attack on Newport, to be
joined in by the army of Sullivan and the fleet of
the Frenchmen, all the militia in the country went
to help in it — our company among the rest ; so that
Sullivan soon had an army of ten thousand men.
"We were also joined by Lafayette and General Greene.
The army marched from Providence to Tiverton,
under the command of Greene. It was agreed be-
tween Sullivan and the French count, — Desting, I
think they called him, — that they should land their
forces at Portsmouth, on the 10th, in the morning.
The Britishers were commanded by Sir Robert Pigot,
and were abeout six thousand strong. On the 9tli, we
received news that the enemy had left their works
on the north end of the island on which Newport

2G2 THE CAMP-FIRE

stands, and had retreated inside of their lines, abeout
three miles from Newport. Sullivan concluded to
push over to the island at once, without minding the
bargain with Desting. So, about eight o'clock, the
right wing of the army, under Greene, began to cross
from Tiverton, and the rest of us followed. I forgot
to tell you that John Hancock was the major-general
of the Massachusetts militia. When we landed, we
took post on the heights at the north end of the
island. There we encamped; but we had a hard
time of it. The militia didn't think about such
sogerin' as that, when we used to parade in Longville.
It blew abeout the hardest, and rained abeout the
hardest, on the 12th, that ever I did see. Towards
night, the wind and rain increased. "We couldn't
keep a tent standing, to save us. Even the generals,
who oughter fare better than anybody else in the
army, couldn't keep their marquees about their
heads. I was wet to the skin, and e'enamost blowed
away. Several of the militia were killed by bein'
struck in the head with tent-poles, and some by the
hail-stones, which, some du say, were as big as two-
pound cannon-balls."

The men held up their hands in astonishment at
the monstrosity of the statement, and some whistled
in a low tone.

"I say, Josh," put in the backwoodsman, "how
did you happen to keep clear of those hail-stones ?''

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 263

" Oh, it s not for me to explain these things. I 'm
only tellin you the fact. But, as I was sayin', several
of the militia were killed. A good many of the
horses were either drowned, or killed in the same
way as the men. The hest part of our amminition
was damaged by the water. Indeed, we were in as
hard a condition as one could think of The enemy
had been in better quarters than we had, and when
the storm cleared away, on the 14th, there was a
first-rate chance for them to whip us. But as they
didn't try it, we spent all that day in dryin' our
clothes and the amminition, and fixin' ourselves for a
march. The next mornin', we set out at six o'clock,
and took post about two miles from the enemy's lines.
There we rested till the 20th, when we opened two
four-gun batteries. About two o'clock that afternoon,
we discovered the French fleet standin' for Newport,
and, at seven o'clock, General Greene and Lafayette
went on board of one of the French ships, to consult
with Desting and his officers. I 've heard tell, since,
that the count was willin' enough to go into Newport
luirbor, but his officers were a kind of cross-grained,
and would n't agree to it ; so, instead of helpin' us
throuiih with the expedition, he sailed for Boston, on
the 2*-!d. That was a miserable botcliin' piece of
business. Between two and three thousand of tlie
volunteers left us in twenty-four hours ; and they
continued to go off, till our whole force was only a

2G4 THE CAMP-FIRE

little more tlian that of the red-coats. There was
nothin' left for us to do, then, but to retreat ; because
we hadn't force enough to storm the works, nor
would n't have had, if the volunteers had all re-
mained ; seein' that the biggest part of 'em had never
seen a battle. Accordin'ly, by the 26th, all the spare
heavy artillery and baggage were sent off the island,
and on the night of the 28th, the army began to
move to the north end. It had been resolved, in a
council of war, to move the army there, and then to
fortify the ground, and hold it till we should find out
whether there was any chance of the French fleet
comin' back. We marched all night, and arrived on
the ground about three o'clock in the mornin', with
all our baggage and cetera. About seven, we were
surprised by a brisk fire of musketry in our front,
between our advanced troops and the enemy, who
had pushed out after us, when they found out that
we were retreatin'. I was with the brigade of militia
under General Lovell ; and, without any braggin', we
did our duty that day. Our advanced troops stood
the fire for some time, and paid the red-coats in their
own coin ; but they were obliged to give way before
the numbers of the enemy. They kept up a pretty
orderly fire as they fell back, till they were reinforced;
when they halted, and fought for awhile so obstinate,
that they give the red-coats a check. More of our
troops were sent to their help, and the Britishers

AT MIDDLEBROOK. 265

were driven back; but that was only for a little
while. More troops reinforced them, and our men
were driven back near to the front line of the main
army, which had been drawn up in order of battle.
We had a redoubt on our right, which was our ad-
vanced post. This the Britishers tried to get at three
times ; but they were each time driven back by our
brave boys ; the last time, they were awfully cut up.
The artillery fired during the whole day, and the
musketry for about six hours ; and it 's the greatest
wonder to me that there wasn't more killin' done
than there was. After the retreat of the Britishers,
neither of the armies could approach the field without
bein raked by the cannon ; so we could n't do any
more that night. The next mornin , Sullivan got
news that Desting, the French count, could n't come,
as he expected, with his troops and help us; and
also, that Lord Howe, the English admiral, had sailed
agahi. He then decided to leave Rhode Island; and,
mhid I tell you, that was a nice job to undertake.
The sentinels of the two armies were within about
four hundred yards of each other, and you may judge
what a deal of care it needed to keep 'em from gettin
wnid of it. The way we done it was this. A number
of tents were brought out and pitched right in sight
of tlie enemy, and tlie whole army appeared to be
fortifyin' the eanip. At the same time, the heavy
baggage and stores were fallin' back, and carried over
23

266 THE CAMP-FIRE

the bay. At dark, the tents were struck, the light
baggage and the troops passed down, and by twelve
o'clock, the whole army had crossed. We slipped
away as quietly as a mouse through a hole in the
trap. Lafayette arrived from Boston just as the last
part of the army was preparin' to retreat. He brought
off the pickets that covered the retreat, without losin'
a man, or leavin' a single article behind. It was
altogether one of the slickest back-outs ever made
anywhere."

" Yery nicely done, indeed," said the literary man.

"Yes; but though the retreat was nice enough,
that ain't what we went there for," returned Josiah.
"We counted sure on takin Newport, and we got
cheated out of it by the 'tarnal Mountseers."
. "Oh, well," said the literary man, "the Mount-
seers, as you call them, are good enough sometimes,
and we ought to be thankful for their assistance in
this war."

" Give me the Yankee nation, in a fightin' time,"
said Josiah. " These Mountseers may be well enough
sometimes, but their conduct on that partic'lar 'casion
kind o' riled me."

" Der Frenchmen is goot," observed the Conestoga
farmer, who had been grumly listening to the con-
versation. No doubt he had seen some of the bravery
of Lafayette.

" Yes," replied the literary man, " the French are

AT MIDDLEBROOK

2G7

a brave nation. They are our friends now — the
very time when we need friends. A braver man
than Lafayette never lived, and I've seen a good
many more of them v/ho were ahnost as good soldiers
as he is. But, come, it must be getting late. We
had better fix the fire, and turn in for the night.
We can afford to leave the French to vindicate them-
selves from any aspersions upon their character. I
think they '11 do it before long."

Those of the party who w^ere generally idle lis-
teners to the conversations of the rest of the mess,
gathered themselves up at this remark of the ruling
spirit, and the whole party were soon safely stowed
for the night, there being no undressing to occupy
the time, where the bed consisted of a little straw
and a blanket.

THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA.

The details of the attacks on the frontier settle-
ments, by the tories and Indians, present us with all
that cruelty could invent, or savages could execute.
Burning houses, desolated fields, and slaughtered
women and children, fill up the awful scenes pre-
sented to us by the history of 1778 and '79 particu-
larly. All ties of blood, friendship, or love, were
forgotten in the pervading dissensions of the whigs
and tories. Fathers looked upon their children only
as belonging to either of two parties, and husbands
cursed the wives that difiered with them in opinion.
This was bad enough ; but it was not all. The tories
generally took the field against the opposite party,
and calling to their aid the ready Indians, fell upon
the defenceless settlements of their particular neigh-
borhood, with unrelenting cruelty, devastating all
within their reach or power. At length, stimulated
by the entreaties of the frontier settlers of Pennsyl-
vania, who took side with the whigs, and also by a
desire to revenge the horrible butchery at Wyoming,

(268)

CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 269

it was determined to get up an expedition into the
infested region.

The object of this expedition was not only the
punishment of the Indians, but the destruction of
several settlements belonging to tories who had
become particularly obnoxious by former cruelties.
The party consisted of a Pennsylvania regiment,
covered by riflemen and rangers, and was commanded
by Colonel William Butler. The men were obliged
to carry six days' provision on their backs, and, thus
loaded, to endure all the hardships incident to a
march through an unsettled region. The party
started on the 1st of October, 1778, from the town
of Schoharie, and having gained the head of the
Delaware, marched down that river for two days;
whence they struck off to the right, and crossed
the mountains, to get to the Susquehanna. They
accomplished this march by enduring all that could
be expected of men who had been accustomed to the
wilderness, when, the riflemen and rangers excepted,
they were unused to it. They were obliged to wade
through rivers and creeks scarcely passable by men
without encumbrance. After the toil of a hard
march, they had to endure chilly nights and heavy
rains, without the means of keeping their arms and
ammunition dry. The detachment arrived, at last,
on the Susquehanna, and than proved that their
march was made to some purpose. For several miles,

i} O :}:

TO THE CAMP-FIRE

on both sides of the Susquehanna, they totally burnt
and destroyed all the Indian castles and villages, and
the tory settlements. The inhabitants, both tories
and Indians, had received inteUigence of the expedi-
tion, and effected their escape before the arrival of
the party. All their winter stock was either de-
stroyed, or captured for the use of the men, and deso-
lation dwelt where before was life and plenty. But,
severe as was the vengeance which the detachment
wreaked on the aggressors and their property, it did
not satisfy some of the men belonging to the party.
There were some among the rangers and riflemen,
who had felt the desolation with which the tories and
Indians had visited the settlements, and the blood of
their wives, and children, and friends, was still un-
avenged, and they could not be satisfied till it was.
This induced many of them to join in the extermi-
nating expedition of General Sullivan, which marched
into the Indian country in the next year.

Having executed all that lay in their power, the
party prepared to return. But this was a difficult
undertaking. The continual heavy rains had caused
a sudden rising of the creeks and the Susquehanna,
and the detachment was running short of provisions.
The crossing of the Susquehanna would at other
times have been deemed impracticable; but their
case was a desperate one, and they attempted to pro-
cure horses, for the purpose of mounting the men,

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 271

sincl fording tlie river in that way. A number of
liorses had been left behind by the Indians^ in their
haste to escape, and these were secured.

It was a clear, cool, October evening, while the
party of Colonel Butler were encamped on the western
bank of the Susquehanna. There was no moon, but
the stars seemed ambitiously striving to supply her
sweet and gentle beams. The troops were stationed
in a wood, on the gently-elevated bank, and among
the almost deserted boughs of the trees, the curling
smoke from a number of fires was ascending. The
swollen stream was dashing violently along, as if
proud of its additional strength. The evening was
one that the party could appreciate, after the cold,
rainy weather they had endured. A single tent was
all they could boast of possessing, and that was re-
served for the officers of the party. Each fire had its
group, composed of the men belonging to the Penn-
sylvania regiment, and the riflemen and the rangers,
indiscriminately mixed, as the supper of the men
was preparing upon it. At a considerable distance
in the wood, sentinels were stationed, to guard against
surprise. The river formed a sure defence upon the
front.

One of the groups, around a fire near the river,
deserves our pjir'ticuLar regard. It is composed of
about a dozen men. Some of them are seated on
small logs and stones, which they have brought near

272 THE CAMP-FIRE

the fire, and others on the ground. Most of them
are dressed in the uniform that bespeaks them mem-
bers of the Pennsylvania regiment ; while two of
them have but the common hunting-shirt and leggings
usually worn by the rangers of the w^oods. All look
wearied and travel-worn, with their brown faces and
soiled dress. The guns of the group are leaning
against the surrounding trees, near at hand, in case
of an attack. One of the rangers is leaning his head
upon one hand, looking in the fire, as if intently
musing. The other is talking to one of the soldiers
in uniform. .The rest of the men are talking among
themselves.

" Jackson," says Seth, the ranger last mentioned,
"do you think there's even a good chance of our
getting over that river there, on horseback? For
my part, I 'd rather try to swim it."

^^Yes, I think there is a very good chance, you
may be sure, or I would not risk my life in making
the attempt," replied Jackson.

"We must get out of this place somehow," con-
tinued Seth, without noticing the answer, " and the
Colonel says there 's no other way."

"Yes," said Jackson, "we must get out of this
before our provision gives out ; and there is no other
way than by trying to cross the river on horseback.
The Colonel is a very prudent and a very shrewd
man ; and I 'm sure he *11 bring us out safe, if possible."

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 273

" Then, after we cross the Susquehanna, there 's so
many infernal creeks, and they '11 be about twice as
high as usual/' continued the ranger. " We had work
enough to get where we are ; but that 's play to the
going-back part of the business."

" There 's one thing certain, Seth," said the soldier,
" we did n't come for nothing. We 've done a great
deal of damage since Ave 've been here, mind I tell
you. When the folks that lived hereabouts come
back, to hunt for their houses and barns, they '11 be
a leetle disappointed, I 'm thinking."

" Poor job — poor job," said Jones, the ranger who
was leaning on his hand, musing ; " if the thing had
been done as I wanted it done, we might have had a
chance to throw some of the infernal owners of the
houses and barns into their flames. That would
have been coming to some purpose;" and as the
ranger emphatically made the last remark, his teeth
clenched, and a savage smile lit up his face, that
seemed like the glare of a red, demoniac light upon
a dark night.

" Oh, you want to go as far as the savages them-
selves," remarked Jackson. '^ I hate such butchery,
wdicther perpetrated by the Indians or our own side.
It ain't human, at all. I 'm satisfied with what we 've
done already."

" I won't be," replied Jones. '' I can't bo, in fact.
I never will rest quietly, till some of them have paid

S

274 THE CAMP-FIRE

me what they owe me ; and it 's a debt not easy paid,
let me tell you.

"I can judge what's been going on/' said Seth.
'' You 've suffered some from the tories or Indians."

" Yes, some/' returned the moody ranger, shortly
expressing a great deal more than his companions
could comprehend. A short pause ensued, which the
soldier was the first to break.

" You appear to have suffered a great deal," said
he, wishing to draw the ranger's sorrows from their
concealment.

" I have suffered a great deal from the hell-hounds,"
replied Jones. '^ I lived at Wyoming, and our family
was large. You can easily guess the rest."

'^1 think I can," said the soldier. ^'They were
murdered at the massacre."

" Yes," was the reply. " You talk of showing the
tories and Indians mercy. If you had lived at
Wyoming and felt their mercy, you never would talk
so. All pity would be banished from your heart, and
you 'd only wish to come across the miscreants, to cut
them down while they cried for mercy. I was there,
and saw it all ; and I could almost cut the throat of
the man that speaks for them."

" I can't say how I would act under such circum-
stances," said Jackson, " but I hardly think it would
be to act their part, myself."

"If it's not too affecting to you to think about

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 275

Wyoming," observed Seth, " I sliould like to hear the
story of the massacre."

" I can tell it to you/' replied the ranger. " It has
ceased to affect me in the way you mean. I cried a
very little time, about our family all bein' cut off
and leavin' me alone in the world. I always had too
much spirit to brood over anything of that kind.
I 've never shed a tear since the day after the mas-
sacre. My whole attention is taken up in the en-
deavor to revenge it ; and I '11 do it, before I 'm dead,
you may depend."

"Let us hear the story, and then we may judge
how far you are right," said Seth.

" You shall," replied Jones ; " but let us get our
share of the victuals, first."

The salt meat was taken from the fire, where it
had been cooking, and cut up into slices, which were
divided among the men equally. A biscuit to each,
was the only article that accompanied it. Our three
friends, having received the shares they waited for,
set about the work of demolition vigorously.

" Now you can go on, Jones," said Seth, with his
mouth full.

*' Yes, now we '11 hear all you know about it," said
the soldier.

" AVcll, you shall," was the reply. '^ You see, our
family came to Wyoming among the earliest thai
settled there. Most of the inhabitants came from

276 THE CAMP-FIRE

Connecticut, because that State claimed that part of
the country where Wyoming was situated, under
some grant or other. Did you ever see the place ?"

The two listeners answered negatively.

" Well, it 's as pretty a valley as there is in any
part of the country. It's just over here, on the
eastern branch of the Susquehanna. The country
around was settlin' very fast, and everything pro-
mised well. It was situated on both sides of the
river, and consisted of eight townships, each five
miles square. You may judge from that how large
it was. The fields were well cultivated, and the land
was rich. The settlement was increasing so fast,
that we were enabled to send a thousand men to the
continental army. We had built four forts, to cover
us from the Indians. But, in spite of the forts, it
was well known that we had sent a thousand of our
best men away from us, and couldn't protect our-
selves as we ought, from the attacks of the Indians.
Besides, from the commencement of the war, there
had been a good many tories among the inhabitants,
and they kept us all the time quarrellin'. Last year,
some of the worst of the tories in the settlement
joined the Indians and marched against us ; but we
beat them back, after some hard skirmishin'. About
that time, several of the tories left the settlement,
and joined the Indians. You see, they had quarrelled
with their families, and went away bent on doin' us

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 277

some damage. They knew all about our condition,
and they made use of their knowledge. Early this
year, a great quantity of strangers came into the
settlement, under different excuses ; and some of
them acted so suspicious, that they were arrested and
examined. The evidence against several of them
was so strong, that we all concluded that they were
actin' with the enemy, on a scheme for destroyin' the
settlement. Twenty of them were sent off to Con-
necticut, to be tried for their lives, and all the rest of
the strangers were driven out of the settlement. This
worked the tories up to the highest pitch, and they
threatened the people with vengeance. Our family
lived near the river, in Wyoming. It was made up
of my father, who was gettin' pretty old, my mother,
and four brothers and sisters. One of these brothers
said boldly he was one of the tories, and we often
quarrelled about it. I was a complete whig, and
did n't want him to talk in the way he did in our
house. All our family sided with me, and, at last,
Bill got so quarrelsome and violent, that we put him
out of the house, and told him never to come back
again until he turned whig. lie said we'd sec him
one of these days, and he would n't come as a whig,
either."

" Did n't that frighten the family ?" asked Seth.

"No, they didn't think much about it, just then;
they hated Bill too much," answered the ranger.
24

278 THE CAMP-FIRE

"He went away, and I never saw him any more.
Well, for several weeks before the massacre, small
parties were sent to the settlement, to try to lull us
into feelin secure. They professed to have the
strongest friendship for us. I think they wanted to
concert with the tories that were in the settlement,
and to see how things were goin on. However, we
knew the scoundrels well enough, not to believe them.
Colonel Zeb Butler commanded our force, and he
wrote to Congress and to General Washington, asking
them to send us some help; but his letters never
reached Congress or Washington; they were inter-
cepted by the tories. A few days before the main
attack, some small parties made attacks on the settle-
ment, and committed some horrible murders. One
of these parties butchered the wife and five children
of one of their own friends, who had been sent to
Connecticut."

" Was it through mistake ?" enquired the soldier.
"I don't know," was the reply; "but it's ten to
one it wasn't. They didn't think about savin' a
wife and children, because the father was a friend to
them. There was too many wives who had the
courage and the sense to think different from their
husbands. It's twenty to one, it wasn't through
mistake. At length, on the 1st of July, the enemy
appeared on the Susquehanna, in full force. They
numbered about sixteen hundred men, of which

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 279

over a quarter were Indians; the rest were tories,
painted and dressed like Indians. The whole party
was commanded by Colonel John Butler, a cousin of
Colonel Zeb Butler. Most of the prominent tories
were with him ; and I do n t think a fiercer or more
bloodthirsty set of men ever joined together for any
purpose. The Indians were under the command of
Brandt, a half-breed. I do n't feel so savage at these
Indians, because one couldn't expect anything else
from them. It 's them infernal hounds that led them
to butchering their own families and friends. One
of the small forts was betrayed into the hands of the
enemy by its own garrison, who were nearly all
tories. Another was taken by storm, and all that
were in it, except the women and children, were
butchered in the most horrible manner. This fort
was a short distance from the village of Wyoming.
On the 3d of July, a council of war was held, to con-
sider whether we should march out of Fort Wilks-
barre and attack the enemy ; and it was finally agreed
that we should. Accordin'ly, the same day, we
marched out, in two Ihics ; one under the command
of Colonel Zeb Butler, and the other under Colonel
Dennison. I was with Butler's line. Spies were
sent forward, and they soon discovered two Indians,
who were out on the' same business for tlie other
army. The scouts fired upon each other ; but no one
was hurt, and they returned to the main body. Both

280 THE CAMP-FIRE

armies then moved forward, and joined battle near a
thick swamp. The line commanded by Dennison
advanced against Brandt, and our line against that
of our commander's cousin. Their army was so far
superior to ours, that they out-flanked us, and Brandt
and the Indians came out of the swamp, and turned
our left flank. This made so much confusion, that
the Indians made sad havoc among Dennison's men.
"We bore up against the numbers of the tories for a
considerable time. But the turning of our left flank
was too much for us. Colonel Dennison ordered his
troops to fall back, in order to make some evolution ;
but the men were already confused, and they thought
he wanted them to retreat, and they broke and fled.
We could n't stand then — there was too few of us.
So we followed, and the Indians pursued us. I tell
you, men, the carnage was horrible. The Indians
would knock the men down, and scalp them in a
minute's time. I only got into the fort, by knocking
down, with the butt-end of my musket, a big Indian
that came yelling close to me."

" How many escaped ?" asked Seth.

" I guess, about a hundred in all," replied the
ranger. " Colonel Butler and Colonel Dennison were
among them. Our commander was still anxious to
keep up the resistance to them. The fort we fled to,
was called Port Wilksbarre. The commander thought
the fort on the other side of the river, where all the

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 281

old men, and the women and children, were placed,
was the best to stand a siege. So we left a few to
guard Fort AYilksbarre, and crossed the river, with
four hundred men, and took post in Fort Kingston,
as it was called. There we were closely besieged till
next day, when Colonel Zeb Butler proposed a parley
with his cousin, to see what terms he could arrange
with him. His cousin agreed to it. The place ap-
pointed for the meeting was an open field, so far from
the fort as to be beyond protection from it. Our
commander suspected the designs of his cousin, and
he took with him about four hundred men, of which
I was one, to guard against treachery. This was
nearly the whole garrison. When we arrived at the
place appointed for the meeting, nobody was waiting
there. Far ahead of us, at the foot of a mountain,
we saw a flag. If he had taken a moment's thought.
Colonel Butler would have turned back. He said
that they seemed afraid of treachery on his side ; for
the holders of the flag fell back as we moved forward.
On we went, till we got very near the flag, when a
yell was heard, and we found ourselves surrounded.
We stood firm, and delivered our Are so heavy and
true, for three quarters of an hour, that we seemed
to have the advantage' of them. But, just then, one
of the men cried out, ^ The Colonel has ordered a re-
treat !' and then the day was lost. The whole party
fell into confusion, and the enemy broke in on all

282 " THE CAMP-FIRE

sides ; and while some of the men hegged for quarter,
they were hewn down and scalped. Many tried to
escape, and were cut down in the attempt. The
slaughter was dreadful beyond anything you ever
heard of, I know. Again I was one of the lucky
ones. About seventy of us escaped from the hands
of the devils, and made our way across the river.
Some of them were cut and bruised in a good many
places. Colonel Butler made his way to Fort Kings-
ton, while the rest of us went to Fort Wilksbarre."

" What an infernal set of rascals !" ejaculated Seth.
" That Colonel John Butler ought to be roasted alive,
as I 've heerd the Indians serve their prisoners."

" Koasted ! that 's too easy a death for such a
wretch !" returned the ranger. " The man who could
so entra23 his own cousin and his own people, and

then butcher them in such a way, ought to be '*

but the speaker seemed perplexed in the invention of
a torment sufficient for the wretch.

" It was a horrible action," observed Jackson, " but
I've heard of his deeds before, and I know one
couldn't expect anything better. He don't appear
to have a heart."

" I '11 find it, if ever I 'm so lucky as to meet him !"
returned the ranger, fiercely. "^'But all that I've
been telling you is nothing, compared with what 's to
come. Fort Kingston was invested by the enemy,
and they kept up a continual fire all day ; and to put

ox THE SUSQUEHANNA. 283

uur little band in as low spirits as possible, they sent
into the fort, for us to look at, no less than one hun-
dred and ninety-six bloody scalps. I almost sickened
at the sight."

" So would any one who had any feelin at all,"
said Seth.

" Well, that same night. Colonel Zeb Butler took
his family, left the fort, and escaped down the river,"
continued the ranger. " I do n't see how he done it,
unless through the permission of his cousin. I do n't
want to say he acted anything like a traitor, but it
looks much like a cowardly action. However, he
was about the only officer that escaped. The next
day, that ^vas the 5th of July, I think. Colonel Den-
nison, w^ho succeeded to the command, seein' that
there was no chance for making a good defence, went
with a flag to Colonel John Butler, to know what
terms he would grant if we surrendered. I went out
with him, and saw the infernal bloodhound when he
answered, ' the hatchet !' He did n't look like a
human bein' at all. Such a fierce, devilish smile he
had on his face, when he made answer. We returned
to the fort ; and then they attacked it with yells and
and howls, like tigers wanting to get at their prey.
We defended the fort till most of the men were killed
or wounded, and the Colonel resolved to surrender at
discretion. I suppose he thought there was still some
cliMnce of escape from bein' murdered, by giving up

284 THE CAMP-FIRE

the fort. I did n't, and wanted to die fightin' there,
in the fort. I knew there was no mercy in the
devils. He surrendered the fort, and then the hatchet
done its work. About fifty of the women, and four
or five men, of whom I was one, were all that es-
caped out of that fort. There was, at the time of
the surrender, at least two hundred women and fifty
men, alive in it. I don't think more than sixty
escaped. I stood before our family, along with one
of my brothers, by the name of Morton ; and when
I saw Bill and some other tories comin' towards us,
I knew he was bent on doin' as the rest of them did.
They rushed on us and cut my brother down, but I
struck Bill across the face with my musket, and
cleared my way to the openin' in the fort. I saw
him fall, and I hardly think he ever got up again."

" The vv^hole of your family were butchered, then ?"
enquired Seth.

"Yes, every one fell by the hands of the blood-
hounds. I saw the tories lay hands on them, as I
escaped through the open gate of the fort. The old
man was on his knees, praying, and the smallest
children were hangin around him, cryin'. Oh ! but
they shall pay for it all, two or three times over !
All I ask is to have a fair field against them, and
that old man's prayer will help me to cut them down
like sheep !" The ranger's teeth and hands were
clenched savagely, and he seemed to be thrilled al

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 285

most beyond bearing, with the desire of revenge.
His companions were evidently affected by his man-
ner and his narrative ; though the same feelings
could not fill their breasts to the extent they did the
eye-witness of the horrid massacre, and one who had
seen his relatives slaughtered.

" I got away from the fort, and made my escape to
the woods safely. I heard that the wretches, thinkin'
they could n't kill their victims fast enough, put them
in the houses and barracks, and then set fire to them.
A few were kept for other tortures. They then
crossed the river, to Fort Wilksbarre, and the gar-
rison surrendered without making any conditions.
There was about seventy continental soldiers in the
fort, who had enlisted for the defence of the frontier,
and these they slaughtered to a man, with all the
horrible inventions they could think of. The women
and children were shut up in the houses, the same asi
before, and then burnt to death in that Avay. I was
safe in the woods, then, but I afterwards came across
a man who escaped the whole of it, by liidin' in a
small wood-shed till night ; and he told me all their
bloody doin's after I got away. He said they stuck
some of their prisoners full of splinters of pine, and
set them on fire, and some they threw into the flames,
and held them down till they were roasted to death.
They even shot the cattle, and cut out the tongues
of some of them, and let them live in torment."

286 THE CAMP-FIRF

" Could tliey be men ?" asked Jackson.
" No, they were devils. The devil himself could
not have acted more fiendishly," returned Seth. '' I
think I could shoot such wretches down without
any pity. I 'd think I was doing good to my fellow
beings."

" I thought you 'd change your sentiments," said
the ranger. " For my part, I act just as I feel. I
feel that such butchers ought not to live, though I
could not tell why."

" Well, I suppose they levelled all the houses, and
wasted and destroyed all the fields, after that ; did n't
they ?" enquired Seth.

" Yes," was the reply ; " they destroyed everything
but the houses of the tories. The crops were nearly
ripe, but they were all destroyed. This friend I told
you about, was near the place about a month ago,
and walked over the ground in the night. Every-
thing is in ruins, he says, and the ground where the
most of the people were slaughtered still bears the
red stains of their blood. The forts were burnt to
the ground. No one would have thought the settle-
ments in the valley ever had been so large and pros-
perous as they were. The whole place was almost
deserted.''

'^ How did you manage to travel through the woods
such a distance as you must have gone before you
arrived at a settlement?" enquired the soldier.
24

ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 287

" Ohj friend, I can hardly tell you. I came across
some women and children, wandering like myself,
with only one man with them. I kept with this
small party, because the women and children needed
protection, and I wanted company. The party con-
sisted of four women, belonging to different families,
and some few children, who had lost their parents in
the massacre. The young man and myself formed
their only guard. We wandered through the woods,
living on berries and roots, for about two weeks, be-
fore we arrived at the first settlement at Northamp-
ton. We picked up two or three other women on
the way, almost worn down with hunger and tra-
vellin'. Two of the women got sick, to make it
worse, and then we had to wait till they were able
to go on. My friend and myself had a hard time of
it, I tell you. We were weak and tired, ourselves,
yet we had to find food for the women and children,
the best part of the time. One poor little girl, that
had lost her father and mother in the massacre, grew
so weak that she could n't go any further with us ;
and, as a lucky thing, she died very soon afterwards.
We had to leave the body in the woods, and push on
as fast as we could, for we were all weak for want of
something to eat, and sleeping in the damp woods. 1
was n't used to it then, as I am now, and could n't
stand much more than the women. Well, we arrived
at a settlement at last, and there we found a few

288 THE CAMP-FIRE

more of the wanderers from Wyoming. The settlers
were all kind to us, and gave the women and children
all the care they needed 5 but I think that some of
them did n't need attention long. The fright and the
horror they had been made to feel, was too much,
when it was added to the toil and hunger they en-
dured in the wilderness."

" I do n't suppose they did/' said the soldier. It 's
a wonder they fled at all, seein that all that belonged
to them had been murdered, and they were alone in
the world.'*

" Was n't there one of your relations saved ?" en-
quired Seth.

" Not one/' was the reply. " I wanted to go back
to the place where they were murdered, but never
could get any of my fellow rangers to join me. The
tories are too thick for me to go alone. I 'd like to
see if I could find their bodies, or anything belongin
to them, that I might keep for their sake ; and I '11
see, before long, if I go alone."

" I '11 go with you/' said Seth. " I 'm anxious to
see the scene of such a massacre ; and I know one,
at least, of the rangers, that will be glad to go with
us. If we can get together a small party, we '11 try
what mischief we can do."

" Will you ?" asked Jones, joyfully ; " then I '11 try
how many I can persuade to join us, and we '11 give
them a taste of their own game. Oh, I feel able to

ON THE SUSQUEHANIs^A. 289

meet a half a dozen of the cowardly wretches, my-
self! You'll go, certain; will you?"

" I will," answered Seth ; " there 's my hand on it."

The ranger shook the proffered hand heartily.
"Now," said he, "I'll pay my score. Come, let's
go and see how the others like the project."

The two arose from their seats and walked away,
leaving Jackson to seek the company of some of the
others. About twenty of the rangers were found
willing to join Jones in his visit to Wyoming, and it
was agreed that they all should accompany the party
of Butler as far back as the nearest settlement, and
then leave them, and, after getting provisions enough
to last them a few weeks, set out for Wyoming.
They proposed to cut off small parties of tories and
Indians, and to rob and murder their families, when-
ever opportunity offered. This should not be won-
dered at ; for most of them had suffered from the at-
tacks of the Indians and tories, during the previous
year. After these measures were agreed to, the men
retired to rest upon the bare ground, near the fires.
The night was more favorable for repose, than any
they had yet experienced, and they all took advan-
tage of it.

The next morning, the whole party crossed tlie
Susquehanna, on horseback ; an exploit of great diffi-
culty. In many places, the horses had to swim, and
the current of the river was very rapid. They all
25 T

290 CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA.

landed safely, however, and started on their march
across the mountains, by which they escaped the
trouble of crossing various swollen creeks. The
rangers left them at the first settlement, according to
agreement, and set about preparing for their own
expedition. The rest of Butler's command returned
to Schoharie, whence they had started, where they
were received by the firing of thirteen rounds of
cannon, and a feu cle joie. They had been absent for
sixteen days, and most of the time had been on short
allowance of provisions ; but they had succeeded in
their design, and that repaid them for their toil.

CoL Zebuloa Butler.

Residence of General Wayne, Chester County, Pa.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT SPRINGFIELD

It was the night of the 23d of June, 1780. The
British arm}^, which had crossed over from New
York into Jersey, with the object of marching to
Morristown and capturing the stores there, had met
a severe check at Springfield, and had retreated, pur-
sued by the militia. Early in the afternoon. General
Greene had been compelled to fall back, by the press
of superior numbers, and had taken position on a
range of hills, where the two roads, along which the
enemy had advanced in two columns, are brought so
near to a point, tliat succour could readily be given
from one to the other. In this commodious position,

Greene continued that night.

(291)

292 THE CAMP-FIRE

The night was a clear, moonlight one. Along the
tops of the range of hills upon which the army was
posted, the watch-fires were burning brightly, con-
trasting strangely with the pure, silver light of the
moon. A short distance in front of the heights,
might be seen the smouldering ruins of the once
beautiful village of Springfield, desolated by the
ruthless hand of the enemy. Upon the eminence
farthest upon the Yauxhall road, Major Lee, with
his dragoons and the pickets, was posted. That
little band had that day fought bravely. They had
maintained a pass called ' The Little Bridge,' against
a greatly superior force, for a considerable time ; and
in the end, it was only forced from its position by the
enemy fording the river, and gaining the point of a
hill. It was a part of that legion which, afterwards,
was so distinguished in the South, and known as
" Lee's legion." It being certain that the enemy had
retreated beyond Elizabethtown, the feeling of secu-
rity from attack relaxed, in some degree, the strict
discipline under which the men were held, and they
were now standing and sitting about the tents in
groups, engaged in conversation. Near a small fire,
upon the edge of the height, a group of men were
half-sitting, half-lying on the ground. It consisted
of five men — two dragoons and three picket-men —
and they were lying in a sort of semicircle, evidently-
looking at the fast-paling embers of Springfield.

AT SPRINGFIELD. 293

"Caldwell/' said one of the picketrguard, "what
poor spite such work as that is, anyhow ! No doubt
these rascals imagine that they make themselves
feared by doing such deeds."

" Yes, I suppose that is their object," replied Cald-
well. "But I think the owners showed 'em they
were a little out in their calculations. I 'm told the
militia pursued 'em till near sunset, when they got
into Elizabethtown."

" Well, if they did," said Hickey, another of the
picket-guard, "they've made sure work of some of
them, I know. These farmers and villagers know
something about aiming a rifle."

"It seems to me," said the first speaker, named
Jones, " that this is the very course that '11 help us
along. If they had any knowledge of how things
work, they might know that their true policy, to in-
jure our cause, is to treat the people of the country
in such a way as to make them like them. They
do n't seem to know that like breeds like."

" If they would treat the people as they oughter,"
remarked the dragoon, named Dayton, " they really
might put a damper on our prospects."

" Yes, if they 'd treat the people as they ought to,
there would be no use of fightin'," added Ilickey.

"Oh, we know that," returned Dayton; "but I
mean now, while we're fightin'. If they'd happen
to smooth over things with the people, by doin' 'em

294 THE CAMP-FIRE

favors and kindnesses, they might soon bring 'em
under their yoke again. But burnin' their houses
will only make 'em stronger friends of the Congress."

" I understand what you mean," said Hickey, " but
you did n't say that."

" Well, I said enough to make you understand me,
and that's the end of talkin'/' replied Dayton.

"It strikes me," remarked the picket-guard who
had not yet spoken, who was called Brown, "it
strikes me, that the red-coat general went back a
leetle dashed. I think, by the way he marched here,
he thought he was going to do wonders."

"Ah," said Caldwell, "that little stand of ours, at
the bridge yonder, give him a taste of what sort of
fighting he might expect us to do. We 're the boys
that can do it, too. I don't want to brag of our
troop, but it 's just my opinion, that there 's not a
regiment of men in the army that will dare more, or
accomplish more, than this same troop of dragoons."

" No ; nor there 's not a more daring or more skilful
leader than Major Henry Lee," added Dayton.

" Well, you can brag as much as you please," said
Jones. " Your troop is as good as any other, I sup-
pose, but not a whit better. Major Lee may be all
you say, but I can mention five or six, at least, who
are his equals, if not superiors."

" Mention one," said Caldwell, " who you think is
his equal, if not his superior."

GENERAL WAYNE.

AT SPRINGFIELD. 295

" General Wayne," replied Jones. " I suppose you
admit it ; do n't you ?"

" Ye — yes/' said Caldwell. '' He is his equal, but
not his superior."

" General Morgan," continued Jones. " He is an-
other ; — is n't he ?"

" Morgan is certainly a brave and skilful man,"
was the reply. "You mustn't understand me to
wish to detract from the merits of any of these
officers. They are all good in their way ; but there 's
something so dashing and so enterprising about Lee,
that it makes me prefer him to them all."

" I suppose the reason of that is, because you fight
under him always. You do n't have a chance to see
the bravery and skill of the others," said Jones.

" That may be," replied Caldwell ; " but it 's a fact,
nevertheless. I prefer him to all the other officers
that are so much praised."

" Was you in the troop at the storming of Stony
Point, last year ?" asked Hickey.

" Yes, I was there, as Dayton can tell you," replied
Caldwell. " Dayton w\as alongside of me."

" To be sure, I was," said Dayton ; " and at Paulus
Hook, too."

" I 've heard that General Wayne's bravery and
generalship on that night, could not be surpassed,"
observed Hickey.

" No ; but his bravery was equalled by every other

296 THE CAMP-FIRE

officer that had the same chance of showing it," re-
plied Caklwell.

" Yes/' added Dayton, " the two officers that com-
manded the forlorn hope were as brave as any men
that ever walked up to a roarin' cannon's mouth."

" They all done their duty well/' continued Cald-
well.

"Caldwell/' said Jones, "can't you give us an
account of the affair? It won't take you a great
w^hile ; and then we '11 make Dayton tell us about
the taking of Paulus Hook."

" If you can/' struck in Dayton. " But let 's have
your story, Caldwell."

"I've no objection to telling you all I know about
the matter/' replied Caldwell. " But you must make
Dayton agree to tell you all about Paulus Hook, or I
won't go on. I do n't like to do all the talking my-
self"

Dayton consented, after much demurring, to ease
his comrade of the burden of telling two stories in
succession, and Caldwell commenced.

" I suppose it will be best to give you an idea of
what sort of a place Stony Point is, and how it is
approached, first. It is situated, you know, on the
Hudson river, twenty miles or more above New York.
The river makes a short bend there. It is a small
peninsula ; very high and rocky. It can be attacked
on three sides, by vessels of war, very easily ; and,

AT SPRINGFIELD. 297

for that reason, requires a very strong garrison to
defend it. The only way it is approachable from the
land, is through a morass and across a sandy beach,
which is defended by a slight abattis. There was the
remains of a bridge over one part of the morass, but
it did n't help to make the passage much easier. You
can form some faint idea, from this, what sort of a
post we had to capture."

" I can see the difficulties you would have to meet,"
said Jones. " The project was a very daring one."

"Who had the credit of planning the attack?"
asked Brown.

" The design of capturing the post was first started
by the commander-in-chief himself," was the reply.
" The plan was matured by the counsels of Wayne,
Colonel Butler, and Major Henry Lee. You see, at
the time the notion was first started, our troop was
stationed nearer to Stony Point than any other part
of the army was, and Lee's knowledge of the country
around the post was more correct and full than that
of anybody else. We were posted at a place called
Haverstraw, about four miles below Stony Toint.
About the 10th of last July, General Washington
reconnoitred the Point, in person, and obtained a
pretty correct draft of the works. The plan of attack
was then agreed upon, at a conference. I think it
was on the morning of the 15th, that our coinniander
received orders to join the light infantry under Gen-

298 THE CAMP-FIRE

eral Wayne ; and we were ordered to move as soon
as we could get ready. You see, Jones, all the troops
engaged in the affair were selected for their bravery
and activity."

" More bragging," returned Jones.
" No, I do n't say it to brag on our troop ; but Gen-
eral Wayne said so in his orders before the attack."

"I can bear with you," said Jones; "go on with
your story."

" Well, we all knew the business we had to do,"

continued Caldwell, " and I can leave it to Dayton to

say whether we were not as anxious to make the

attempt as any of the officers were. We were to join

General Wayne at Sandy Beach, about fourteen miles

from Stony Point; and when we arrived there, we

found that all the Massachusetts light infantry had

come down from West Point, and the sixth and ninth

Pennsylvania regiments, I think it was, were already

there. Well, we had the plan of attack and the

general orders read to us by the adjutant. I do n't

suppose I can remember precisely how the orders

run; but if I don't, you can correct me, Dayton.

We were to move from our position at twelve o'clock,

commencing on the right, and making a short halt at

the creek, which we had to cross on our way. No

man was to leave the ranks, under any pretence

whatever, until a general halt was made."

"And then to be attended by an officer of the

AT SPRINGFIELD. ^ 299

platoon," interrupted Dayton. '' I recollect that very
well; for I left them myself, and Corporal Bunn
went with me."

"Yes, I recollect," was the reply. "Our troop,
and some infantry that Wayne had put under Major
Lee's command, had n't anything of much account to
do. We were, of course, dismounted, and were to
act as a reserve, and follow in the rear of the two
columns. I read the plan of the attack, soon after
the capture, and learned more about it than I could
from hearing the adjutant describe it. The right
column was formed of Colonel Febinger's regiment,
Colonel Meigs' and Major Hull's Massachusetts in-
fantr}^ This column was to be commanded by Gen-
eral Wayne himself The left column was led by
Colonel Butler, with Major Murfree in his rear.
Then there was to be a sort of feint made in the
centre, to draw the attention of the garrison away
from the real points of attack. Every one of us,
officers and men, was ordered to fix a piece of white
paper in a part of his hat or cap where it could be
seen, to distinguish him from the enemy. When the
word was given to march. Colonel Fleury was to take
charge of one hundred and fifty determined and
picked men."

" Not your troop," said Jones, harping on the same
tune, of Caldwell's bragging.

" No, not our troop ; but we could have done it as

300 THE CAMP-FIRE

well as they did, I guess/' replied Caldwell. "But,
as I saidj Colonel Fleury was to take charge of one
hundred and fifty determined and picked men. These
men were to have their muskets unloaded, and to
place their whole dependence on the bayonet. They
were to move about twenty paces in front of the right
column, and to enter the sallyport marked. Colonel
Fleury was to detach an officer and twenty men, a
little in front, to remove the abattis and secure the
sentries. When the works were forced, and not be-
fore, the troops were to give the watchword, and
drive the garrison from their works and guns. Col-
onel Butler's column was to move by another route
through the morass, preceded by one hundred picked
men, with fixed bayonets. This hundred men were
to detach an officer and twenty men a little in front,
to remove the obstructions, in the same way as the
other party. As soon as they could gain the works,
they were to give the watchword, so as to prevent
mistake. In the advance, the strictest silence was to
be kept by all. The orders concluded with an address
to the men, offering a reward of five hundred dollars
to the first man who would enter the works, and a
promotion besides. The second, third, fourth, and
fifth, were also to receive a reward."

" That, no doubt, helped considerable to make the
troops do their best," observed Hickey.

"Yes, I suppose it helped a little; but the men

AT SPRINGFIELD. 301

thought they were honored anyhow, by having been
picked out for the service; and besides. General
Wayne gave orders to shoot the first man that at-
tempted to skulk in the face of danger. Well, every-
thing being arranged, we moved off about twelve
o'clock, on the 15th. The roads were very narrow
and rough, and having to pass over high hills, and
through defiles and deep morasses, we had to move
in single file for the best part of the way. Besides,
the day was one of the hottest I ever felt. It 's a
singular thing, that the toil of the march didn't
dampen the spirits of the men ; but it shows what
sort of spirit animated them."

" I felt it a little," said Dayton. " When we got
to the bottom of that hill where we halted, I did n't
feel like going much further that day."

" Well, you did n't go much further that day,"
replied Caldwell. " It was just dark when we got
there. You see, Jones, at the foot of that hill, which
was about a mile and a half from the works of the
enemy, we were to divide our force into two columns.
There we stopped and rested, while General Wayne
and some of his officers went forward to look at the
works. I think it was about half after eleven o'clock
when we moved forward, according to the order I told
you we were to move in. The van of the left was
commanded by Major Walter Stewart, and the party
of twenty, who were to remove obstructions, waa
26

302 THE CAMP-FIRE

under Captain Lawson. The otlier forlorn hope waa
commanded by Lieutenant Gibbons, of one of the
Pennsylvania regiments. "We found the morass over-
flowed v^^ith water, and then we had a march such as
I do n't want to perform again. We sunk in the mud
and water almost waist-deep, sometimes, and it was
pretty dark at the time. Everything was done as
quietly as possible, according to orders; and the
plashing of the water and the whispers of the officers
was all that you could hear. It seemed like marching
up to meet death ; for it was expected that we 'd lose
about every third man. The first noise we heard
was about twelve o'clock, when we had come to a
halt. We were in the rear of both columns, but
could see almost everything that was going on ahead
of us. The removing of the abattis and securing the
sentinels occupied some time, and then the cannon
and the musketry blazed and roared all at once, as if
a sudden burst of thunder had broke upon us. By
the light, we could see the troops of both columns
pushing up the rocks and into the sallyport as if
there was no cannon firing."

" How they did walk up to the works !" ejaculated
Dayton. " I thought they might fall back, when so
many of the forlorn hope were shot down ; but on
they went."

" Yes ; and amid all that firing, you could see them
rushing to get into the works. I saw General Wayne

AT SPRINGFIELD. 303

fill] while at the head of the right column, and I
thought he was shot dead ; but then two of his aids
carried him on into the fort. I heard since, that he
said he wanted to die in the fort. We followed on
then, as soon as we saw the troops ahead of us getting
into the fort, and then you should have heard the
watchword, as the men shouted at the top of their
voices. I saw some of the men fall back off the
rocks, as the column of Butler moved on to the at-
tack. Then, by the bright flashing of the musketry,
I saw the proud British flag fall. We got to the gate
of the sallyport just as the garrison surrendered, and
then we give three of the loudest cheers I ever heard.
Colonel Fleury had struck the British flag with his
own hand, just as the two columns met in the centre
of the fort."

" How long do you think the flght lasted ?" asked
Jones.

" Not more than flfteen minutes," was Caldwell's
reply.

" Only fifteen minutes !" ejaculated Jones. " Why,
did n't the garrison numljor more than your force ?"

" No ; we had the superiority in numbers," replied
Caldwell. " They had a little over six hundred men,
however ; and such a force ought to hold a post like
that against three thousand assailants. I 'm sure we
could have done it."

" IIow many did they lose ? I suppose you gave

04 THE CAMP-FIRE

them a little taste of Paoli mercy; didn't you?"
enquired Jones.

"No; we didn't do any such thing," returned
Caldwell. "We leave that to the savages in red
coats. We call ourselves Christians, and we act like
civilized men. They only had sixty-three killed and
thirty-seven wounded; four hundred and forty-four
were marched towards Lancaster, as prisoners, in-
cluding their commander, Colonel Johnston. A few
of them got off in boats, but they ran a good chance
of being taken. I fired at one of the boats; but I
do n't know whether I done any execution or not."

" How many did our army lose altogether ?" was
the next enquiry.

" I believe there was about fifteen killed and eighty
wounded; not any more, I know," returned Caldwell.
" Is n't that about it, Dayton ?"

" Ye — s," drawled out Dayton, " I guess there was
about eighty wounded." Dayton was evidently get-
ting sleepy. He was not one of the most active
spirits in the world, and the day's marching and
fighting had had a very wearying efiect on him.

" Wayne was only slightly wounded ; was n't he ?"
asked Brown.

" Yes ; a musket-ball struck him in the head, but
did n't do much more than graze the skin, and stun
him for a while," was the answer.

" The more I hear and see of Wayne^ the more I

AT SPRINGFIELD. 305

Bee in him to admire/' observed Jones. " I 'd like to
serve under him."

•^ "Why, ain't you satisfied with your present gen-
eral?" enquired Hickey. "Do you prefer serving
under General TVayne^ to serving under General
Greene ?"

"Yes/' replied Jones; "but it's not because I
think he 's a better general, but because he fights in
a way more to my taste. General Greene is a man
that will gain his object in the end, even if he suffers
defeat in action ; pretty much the same as Washing-
ton. He may be a wiser man than "Wayne. Indeed,
I think he is. But I like such fighting as Wayne
gives the enemy. He goes into action with the de-
termination to conquer, or to fall in the attempt."

"Yes, that's all very well for them as likes it,"
returned Hickey. " But, in my opinion, it 's a good
deal more sensible to retreat, when you find there 's
no chance of conquerin'. It saves life, and them as
lives can pay the enemy when there 's a better
chance. Hurrah for Greene ! I say."

"What do you go into battle for, if not to win?"
asked Jones.

" Generals hazard a battle very often, when there 's
no chance of winning," observed Caldwell. "' vSome-
times it is done merely to give a superior force a
check."

Jones found the arguments too many for him, but
20 '■-' u

306 THE CAMP-FIRE

still persisted in opposing his blank denial, although
satisfied that what they said was true.

" Men ought n't to go into a fight without resolving
to whip the foe, or be whipped. I hate this w^ay of
backing out, when you see the enemy has a little
advantage/' continued Jones.

" Who got the five-hundred-dollar reward at Stony
Point ?" asked Brown, wishing to put an end to the
discussion.

" Ah, that point was n't settled," replied Caldwell.
" You know both columns got into the fort about the
same time. Of course, it w^as easy to tell who was
at the head of each column, but not so easy to say
which was in the fort first. I never heard who got
the money."

" The capture of the post was hardly worth the
men it cost," said Jones. " You had to give it up
almost as soon as you took it."

"We didn't keep it a great while, that's true,"
returned Caldwell, "but then you must remember
what a quantity of stores we captured, and how
many prisoners were taken."

" How much ammunition and stores did you find ?'*
enquired Jones.

"' Why, fifteen cannon and mortars were captured,
with ammunition enough to last our troop and some
of the other regiments for two months," replied Cald-
well. " Then there w^as a great variety of military

AT SPRINGFIELD. 307

articles that we wanted, and some baggage. The
baggage, I think, was burnt when we destroyed the
works, two or three days after the capture. Was n't
it, Dayton T

As Caldwell made this appeal and waited in vain
for an answer, he looked in the direction of the place
where Dayton had been sitting, and discovered that
individual stretched at full length on the grass,
having forgot his cares and toils in slumber.

" Well, I '11 be hanged if that is n't a sleepy con
cern," remarked Ilickey. " He was going to tell us
about the capture of Paulus Hook, so fast."

"I knew he wouldn't," said Caldwell. ^-You'll
get no story out of him to-night."

"Come, Dayton," said Hickey, giving the slum-
bering one a kick, " this is no place for you to go to
sleep. Get up and go into your tent."

But it required sundry kicks to awaken Dayton
from his leaden state ; and when he did yawningly
arouse himself, he wanted to know what was the
matter.

" Matter !" exclaimed Caldwell, " why, the British
are upon us. Up, man !"

Dayton sprang to his feet as lightly and as quickly
as if he had been watching for the enemy. " Where '3
the horses ?" enquired lie.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Jones; "I believe he would

308 THE CAMP-FIRE AT SPRINGFIELD.

"Come, boy/' said Caldwell, "we'll go inside.
There's no red-coats about, to disturb you. We'll
have that account of Paulus Plook some other time,
Jones."

"Yes, we'll get it out of him, certain," replied
Jones. "Good night, Caldwell; I must go further
round, to my post on the height beyond here."

The dragoons entered their tent, to seek repose
for the night, and Jones proceeded to his post as
sentinel. The other two picket-guards. Brown and
Hickey, stayed to fix the fire ; and then Brown bade
Hickey good night, and repaired to his post on the
other side of the height. The moon went down
early, making the light of the watch-fires the more
necessary ; and Hickey paced up and down in front
of the tent of the dragoons, occasionally stopping and
gazing at the ruins of the village, from which a scarce
distinguishable smoke was still rising. " They '11 rue
this, certain. Such dealings will have their reward,"
said he, aloud; and then went on with his lonely,
measured walk ; no doubt thinking upon the heart-
lessness of the men who would wantonly set fire to
the homes of so many humble, peaceable people.

Wasiungton's Head-Quarters at Morristowiu

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN

The situation of the encampment at Morristown
was well chosen. The surrounding countiy afforded
natural barriers to the approach of an enemy, and
being very fertile, furnished ample supplies in the
matter of provisions. The portion of the American
army encamped at this place, was the Pennsylvania
line, under the command of General Wayne. The
troops entered into winter quarters at this place, en-
camping in rude huts, in the latter part of November.
Although the neighboring country produced an aijun-
dance of supplies of every kind, the troops were very
ill provided fjr. They nearly all had some portion
of their pay in arrears ; and whatever was paid was
in a depreciated currency. Their clothing was of
the scantiest character, and their protection from the
severity of the weather was slight. These circum-
stances operated so strongly, some time afterwards,

(309)

310 THE CAMP-FIRE

as to produce a very serious mutiny ; and, at the time
to which we are about to refer, they were the cause
of a great deal of discontent. .

The night was very dark. Scarcely an object
could be distinguished, though within a foot of a
person. The keen breath of December pierced
through the many openings in the huts of the en-
campment at Morristown, and kept their occupants
huddled as close as possible to their well-heaped fires.
Occasionally, the door of one of the huts would open,
as some of the occupants went to take their turn as
sentinels in the advanced guard-houses ; and then the
light of their pine torches would glare redly and fit-
fully on the dark scene around, making the blackness
of the sky more visible, and increasing sensibly the
dreary and uncomfortable appearance of everything.
Then, as the men proceeded to their posts, all would
subside again into darkness and silence. Let us
enter one of these huts, and see how the men are
whiling away the dreary time. The one nearest to
the outpost of the sentinels will serve us. There are
ten men sitting around the fire, which is built in the
middle of the hut, on the ground — that forming a
great part of the floor of the structure. What boards
there were in the hut, were used for sitting and
sleeping on. A large number of the Pennsylvania
line were natives of Ireland; and it needed but a
single glance at the faces of the ten men gathered

AT MORRISTO^N. 311

around that fire, to give assurance that the majority
of them were from the " gim of the ocean." The
features could not be mistaken. The broad face ; the
short, end-up nose ; the light and red hair ; blue eyes
and ruddy cheeks; labelled them, "from Ireland."
Only three out of the ten could be distinguished, by
their long faces and lantern-jaws, as natives of the
land for which they were fighting. The clothing of
the group was without uniformity, and might be
termed, ragged.

" Now, Barney," said one of these sons of Erin,
" ye spalpeen, ye know ye can sing. I niver knew
an Irishman that could n't do that same."

" I know I can, mon. Bad luck to me if I did n't.
But, I tell yez, I 've got a cowld, and that stops my
throat up."

" Come, Barney," said one of the Pennsylvanians,
" do n't take so much coaxin'. An Irishman ought
to have impudence enough to attempt anything,
whether he can do it or not."

" Go on, go on, mon," added another of the Hiber-
nians ; "it'll kape the blood stirrin, perhaps."

" Och, what '11 I sing for yez, ye blatherin' divils ?"
said Barney. " I do n't know inythin' but the rale
Irish songs."

^'That's what I want to hear," replied one of the
Pennsylvanians. " I can sing some of our songs my-
self. Give us something Irish."

312 THE CAMP-FIRE

"Yes, yes; something Irish/' struck in two or
three of the Hibernians.

" Well, I '11 sing yez a song that I know 11 warm
some of your hearts, whither your outside 's cowld or
not. It 's called ' The Irish Emigrant.' " And Bar-
ney sang, in the sweet tenor voice so commonly found
among the Irish people, the song that follows.

Farewell to my country, a lasting farewell !

Sweet scenes of my childhood, forever adieu !
Now hid from my sight is the flowery deU,

And now the dear cabin recedes from my view ;

Thy murmuring streams no more breathe on mine ear;

Thy wild-waving woods, too, are lost to my sight :
Sweet gem of the world, I drop the sad tear,

And farewell to Erin, dear land of delight.

Sweet days that are past, how ye come o'er my soul !

Ye chill my warm blood, as the sad scenes I trace :
Though Time shakes his sand, and the wide waters roll,

Nor distance, nor seasons, those scenes shall efface ;

Brave, brave were thy sons, unshaken by fear ;

And blooming thy maidens to my ravish'd sight.
Sweet gem of the world ! I di'op the sad tear

To Erin, dear Erin ! the land of delight.

The tempest arose, and the ravager came ;

Thy streams, stain'd with blood, reveal'd the sad tale !
Thy wild-waving woodlands were shrouded with flame,

And the hell-hounds of war descended the vale;

AT .MORRISTOWN. 313

I my mother^ my sister, my Kathleen so dear !

Can I think without madness on that horrid night.
To your shades, ye beloved ones, I drop the sad tear,

And to Erin, dear Erin ! the land of delight.

The song was sung in a very feeling manner, and
as Barney drew near the close of it, the faces of the
Irishmen might be seen to wear a sadder expression,
and as it was finished, in a low, sweet tone, Barney
put his ragged sleeve up to his eye, as if to brush
away a tear. No doubt, the song called to mind
memories of the land they had left — of a mother, or
sister ; or, dearer ones still, a wife and children, that
poverty had compelled them to leave behind, when
they sought a happier shore.

'^ That song took away all the cowld feelin' I had,**
observed one of the men, named Larry.

" Och," said Barney, " I could n't sing it again, if I
was to be kilt for it."

" It *s a very pretty song," said one of the Pennsyl-
vanians, upon whom the song had not operated so
powerfully, "but I'll Ije switched if it took away the
'cowld feelin', as you call it, from me. My back is
freezing, while my front is warm."

" I won't stand such livin' as this much longer, T
tell you now. I do n't believe that we 're bound to
Btay here any longer, anyhow," said another of the
Americans.

" You 're not bound to stay, in my opinion, Ben ;
27

314 THE CAMP-FIRE

but you ought to stay, you know," replied the third
Pennsylvanian. " I suffer all hardships, the same as
you do, but I do n't complain so much. I think the
government ought to pay us better, and provide better
quarters for us; but because they don't, I'm not
going to turn deserter, or Arnold either."

^'And who would turn Arnold?" asked the com-
plaining one, indignantly. " Must a man turn traitor,
because he won't put up with getting such pay and
livin' as we do, after fightin' the battles of his country
for three years ?"

" Is it an Arnold ye talk about turnin ?" put in
one of the Irishmen; "bad luck to the man that
turns traither."

"Well, men," said the Pennsylvanian who had
replied to Ben's complaint, and whose name was
Matthew, " have you heard the particulars of that
foul treachery of Arnold's ? If you have n't, I can
tell you all about it."

"I've heard enough of it to convince me that
Arnold has acted as basely as a traitor could act/*
replied Ben.

" Well, I know nothin' about it, more 'n I 've heard
from the men," said Barney. " Tell us all about it,
Mat, and if Ben don't want to hear it, let him sit
quietly."

" Yis, yis," added another of the Irishmen, " go on
wid the story, and let Ben go to the divil."

AT MORRISTO"^N. 315

The call being pretty generally joined in by the
men, Matthew, who was anxious to lay bare to his
comrades the full baseness of the conduct of Arnold,
commenced his narrative.

'' You see, men, I 've been very inquisitive in this
matter. I generally try to get a full understanding
of an affair, in all its particulars, before I give my
opinion. In the first place, the way I first became
acquainted with the matter was through one of the
militia-men that stopped Major Andre. You know
it was while the main army was encamped at Orange-
town, or Tappan, as it is sometimes called, that we
first heard of the treason, by the adjutant of the
regiment reading the paper issued by General Greene.
From that time, I made inquiries, and learned who
the militia-men were that had overhauled Andre.
One of them, I knew ; his name was Williams. From
him, I learned all the particulars of the capture of
Andre, and the rest I picked up from the conversation
of the captain and sergeant of our company."

" Never mind the authority ; go on with the story.
I'm satisfied of its truth, if 30U tell it," said Ben.

" Well, I thought I 'd let you know where I built
my story," answered Matthew. ^* The post that was
to be sacrificed by the treachery of Arnold, was West
Point, on the Hudson River, about sixty miles above
New York, its position is such, that General Wash-
ington considers it the most important post in the

316 . THE CAMP-FIRE

United States. It is indeed a strong post. Have
any of you ever seen it ?"

None of the party had got that far north. Two
re^'iments of the Pennsylvania line had been des-
patched to West Point, soon after the discovery of
Arnold's treachery ; but the one they were enlisted
in was not with them. Accordingly, they all ex-
pressed their ignorance of its character.

" Well," continued Matthew, " it is a very strongly
fortified place. In fact, it is called the Gibraltar of
America. It is situated at a bend of the river, where
the rocks rise in ridges, one above another. The
summit is very high, and is covered with a range of
redoubts and batteries, planned by the most skilful
engineers. The highest and strongest fort is built on
a natural platform of rocks, very steep, and almost
inaccessible on every side. This is called ' Fort Put-
nam,' after old General Putnam, who planned it. It
overlooks the whole plains below, and, they say, you
can see thirty miles around from it. Then, to make
the place still stronger, a very heavy chain is thrown
across the river, at the short bend, and fixed to large
blocks on each shore. The links of the chain are
actually about a foot wide and a foot and a half long.
It is buoyed up by large logs, pointed at each end, to
make less opposition to the current of the river.
This chain is commanded by the fire of batteries on
each side of the river. You may judge, from this

AT MORRISTOWN. 317

short description, of the strength of the position.
They calculate that it could bid defiance to twenty
thousand men, if it was properly garrisoned. And
then, when you consider that it commands the whole
country from New York to Canada, and keeps open
the communication between the eastern and southern
States, you can judge of the amount of damage Ar-
nold's surrender of it w^ould have done to the cause
we were fighting for. Well, in the early part of last
August, Arnold obtained the command of West
Point, after considerable solicitation. The fact of
his asking the command of that post, when there was
a prospect of an attack being made on New York, by
Washington, seemed to the commander-in-chief very
strange. He had intended that Arnold should com-
mand the left wing of the army, as that was the post
of honor ; but Arnold said that his w^ounded leg pre-
vented him from keeping on horseback for any length
of time, and, in fact, unfitted him for active service.
He obtained his request, as I said before, and went
immediately to the Highlands, and established his
head-quarters at Robinson's house, two or three miles
below West Point, on the east side of the river.
West Point is, of course, on the west side. I might
as well tell you here, that Arnold was in correspond-
ence with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major Andre,
all the time he was asking for the command of West
Point, and for about a year previous."
27*

318 THE CAMP-FIRE

" For a year previous to his treachery in regard to
West Point ?" asked Ben.

" Yes, that 's certain," was the reply. '^ How much
longer it had been going on, we do n't know. General
Arnold took command of West Point, and then he
thought it was a proper time to bring matters to an
end. So he wrote to Clinton, and offered to surrender
the post he commanded into his hands, with all the
troops and stores in it ; but requested him to send an
officer, or some other person, who had his particular
confidence, to meet him, that is, Arnold, at some con-
venient time and place. This, the British commander
agreed to do, and Major Andre, the adjutant-general
of the British, was selected for that service. It ap-
pears that Arnold wanted to make quite certain of
the reward he was to receive for his treachery, before
he advanced too far. You know, I suppose, that
about this time a detachment of cavalry was stationed
at the outposts, on the west side of the Hudson river.
A part of the detachment, under Colonel Sheldon,
was at Salem. The rest, under Lieutenant-Colonel
Jameson and Major Tallmadge, was at North-Castle.
Well, Arnold gave notice to Sheldon, that he expected
a person from New York, whom he wanted to meet
at Sheldon's quarters; and he hoped, through the
agency of that person, to open a chance for procuring
intelligence. In other words — for I don't suppose
Bome 0/ you Irishmen understand me — he wanted

AT irORRISTOTTN. 319

Sheldon to believe that the person he was going to
meet would be a valuable spy."

"A spy is it ye mane?" enquired Barney. "Yis,
I untherstand ye."

" Well," continued Matthew, " he requested Colonel
Sheldon, if such a person should arrive, to show him
proper attention, and send information of the same
to head-quarters. A letter was sent to Andre, telling
him of this arrangement, and that if he could con-
trive to make his way to the American outposts
above White Plains, he would be under the protection
of Colonel Sheldon afterwards, and would meet with
no obstacles. From some unknown cause. Major
Andre did not choose to pursue this course, but sent
a letter to Colonel Sheldon, signed ^ John Anderson,'
stating that he would meet Mr. Gustavus at Dobb's
Ferry, on the next Monday, (which, if I recollect
right, was the 11th of September,) at twelve o'clock.
Now, the letter seemed a sort of enigma to Colonel
Sheldon, as he afterwards said; but he sent it to
Arnold, requesting him to either go himself to Dobb's
Ferry, or send a trustworthy messenger. Arnold
sent a reply to Sheldon, explaining, as he said, all
the mystery of the letter from Andre. He said that
Gustavus was a name he had assumed, to prevent
discovery, if the letter should fiiU into the enemy's
hands ; and further, that he would himself go to
Dobb's Ferrv. He contrived these circumstances to

320 THE CAMP-FIRE

blind those who might become acquainted with the
transaction, by giving it the color of a sort of public
business. Well, Arnold left his head-quarters on the
afternoon of the 10th, went down the river in his
barge, to King's Ferry, and passed the night at the
house of a man by the name of Smith, — Joshua
Smith, — about two miles and a half belov/ King's
Ferry, near the Haverstraw road. The next morn-
ing, early, he proceeded to Dobb's Ferry. You know
that 's not very far from Tappan, where we were en-
camped. Major Andre had been on the spot before
Arnold arrived; he was accompanied by a British
colonel. But there 's one thing I came near forgetting.
When Arnold was nearing Dobb's Ferry, he was fired
upon by the British gun-boats, and so closely pursued
that his life was in danger ; and once he came near
being taken prisoner. He landed safely, however,
and proceeded to the Ferry, where he remained till
night ; but Andre and his companion had left, and in
this way an interview was prevented for the time, at
least. Arnold wrote a letter to Washington, while
at the Ferry, to give some show of reason for his
passage down the river. This was necessary, to pre-
vent suspicion. He had come down the river in a
very public manner, and it could n't fail to be known.
He said he had come down the river to have a beacon
fixed on a hill about ^\e miles below King's Ferry,
which would be useful to alarm the country ; and to

AT morristow:n". 321

establish signals, to be observed in case the enemy
ascended the river. These reasons were satisfactory,
as they seemed proofs of his vigilance. Put on a
little more of that wood, will you, Barney? The
fire's getting down, and I'm getting colder." The
request was complied with, and all seemed to feel
the additional comfort. Matthew continued his nar-
rative.

"Arnold was thus foiled in the attempt to bring
his terms with the British to a settlement. He left
Dobb's Ferry a little after sunset, went up the river
in the night, and reached his quarters before morning.
Another appointment for an interview was now to be
made, and the time and place fixed on by the two
parties. I think Arnold must have felt very uneasy
all this time. I should n't suppose he could have had
a moment's rest. He must have been in constant
fear of detection. To bring about the second meet-
ing, greater caution was necessary than before. Gen-
eral Washington intended to cross the river at King's
Ferry, in a few days, on his way to Hartford, to meet
Rochambeau, the French commander; and it was
necessary to arrange matters so that there would be,
at the time of his crossing, no cause for suspicion.
Arnold knew this, as it appears, and took his mea-
sures accordingly. Two days after his return from
Dobb's Ferry, he sent a letter to Andre, telling him
that, if he would be at the landing on the cast side

V

322 THE CAMP-FIRE

of Dobb's Ferry, on the evening of the 20th, a person
would be there in whom he might pLace confidence,
and who would conduct him to a place of safety,
where Arnold would meet him. This letter arrived
at New York too late to be of any use. Sir Henry
Clinton was anxious to press the matter forward with
all the haste he could ; and he sent Colonel Robinson,
an American tory, whose lands had been confiscated
by the government, up the river, on board the sloop-
of-war Vulture, with orders to proceed as high up as
Teller's Point. You see, this Colonel Robinson owned
the house that Arnold lived in for a head-quarters,
and he seemed to be doing nothing more than what
was natural, when he entered into correspondence
with the American general about his property. Rob-
inson wrote two letters ; one to General Putnam, as
if he did n't know that Putnam had left the High-
lands, requesting a conference with him on some
private business. The other he enclosed in the one
sent to Putnam, directed to Arnold. These letters
were sent by a flag to the officer commanding at Yer-
planck's Point, the Vulture being within sight of that
post, and only six or seven miles below. It hap-
pened that Washington commenced his journey to
Hartford on the very day the letters were sent, and
crossed the Hudson, at King's Ferry, but a few hours
after the flag-boat from the Vulture had proceeded to
Verplanck's Point. Arnold came down the river in

AT MORRISTOWN. 323

his barge, to meet Washington, the same afternoon,
as a mark of respect to the commander-in-chief, and,
no doubt, as a precaution on his own part. He had
received Robinson's letter just before he left home,
and had mentioned the nature of its contents to Col-
onel Lamb and some other persons that were with
him at the time of its reception. Lamb was sur-
prised that Robinson should open such a correspond-
ence, and told Arnold that the civil authorities only,
could act on such a subject. AVashington and his
officers crossed the river in Arnold's barge; and
several things occurred during the crossing, that
were scarcely noticed at the time, but which after-
wards were recalled to mind by the officers. The
Vulture was in full view; and while Washington
was looking at her, through his glass, and speaking
in a low tone to some of his officers, Arnold exhibited
a great deal of uneasiness and emotion. Another
incident made a stronger impression. There was a
French squadron expected daily to make its appear-
ance on the coast, under the Count de Guichen, I
think it was. Some of the officers were speaking of
this, when Lafayette said, in a sort of jesting waj',
^General Arnold, you have a correspondence with
the enemy ; you must ascertain, as soon as possible,
what has ])ecome of Guichen.' There was nothing
more meant ]>y this, than an allusion to the freedom
of intercourse between West Point and New York,

324 THE CAMP-FIRE

and the frequent exchange of newspapers; but 'sus-
picion always haunts the guilty mind/ you know;
and Arnold^ I suppose, though t, for a moment, that
his plot was discovered ; for he asked Lafayette what
he meant, and seemed confused. He recovered his
self-control, however, and the boat came to the shore.
This was on the 18th of September. Arnold went
with Washington to Peekskill, and there passed the
night. The next morning, Washington and his suite
set out for Hartford, and Arnold returned to West
Point."

" Well," enquired Ben, " had Washington actually
any knowledge of the correspondence of Clinton and
Arnold?"

" No," answered Matthew. " He might have had
suspicions of Arnold's fidelity to our cause, but he
knew nothing of the actual state of affairs. Arnold
showed Robinson's letter to him, in order to give him
an idea that he was open and frank in his dealings ;
but Washington advised him to drop the correspond-
ence, as it might create suspicions in the minds of
some people. I told you, I believe, — or, if I did n't,
I forgot it, — that Robinson's letter to Arnold was
written in such a manner, that it would convey to
Arnold the information desired, and yet, if shown to
anybody else, would pass for a mere business letter.
After hearing Washington's decision, Arnold gave up
the idea of having ,a meeting with Robinson in the

AT MORRISTO^N. 325

way proposed in tlie letter. He wrote an answer to
Robinson, and despatched it openly, in a flag-boat, to
the Yulture. Whatever this letter contained, it was
sent to Sir Henry Clinton, and Andre started from
New York, and arrived on board of the Vulture on
the evening of the 20th of September. It afterwards
appeared, that this was the night Arnold had ap-
pointed for a meeting with Andre. He had resolved
that Andre should meet him on the land ; but Andre
wanted him to come on board of the Yulture. You
see, he had little confidence in a man's word who was
about to betray his country. Arnold had arranged
matters so, that Joshua Smith's house was to be the
place of meeting, and that Smith was to go in a flag-
boat, at night, to the Vulture, and bring off the
person who would be waiting there. Well, Andre
remained on board of the Vulture all night, expecting
to meet Arnold there ; but no person appearing, he
began to grow suspicious. He stayed on board all
the next day, however, on pretence of sickness.
After a great deal of trouble, he procured two boat-
men, by the name of Colquhoun ; they were brothers.
He had everything arranged so that there would be
no stoppage, and about eleven o'clock on the next
night after Andre's arrival, the boat, with Smith and
the two brothers in it, passed quietly down the river
till they were near the Vulture, wJxen they were
hailed and ordered to come alongside. After some
28

326 THE CAMP-FIRE

little trouble with the man who had hailed them,
Smith got on board. In a short time after, Smith
got into the boat again, accompanied by Andre, and
the boat proceeded to the foot of a mountain called
Long Clove, where the occupants landed. This Long
Clove is about six miles below Stony Point. Arnold
had ridden to this place on horseback, with one of
Smith's servants. Smith groped his way up the
bank, and found Arnold among the bushes and trees.
Most of what I 'm telling you now, I got from the
narrative Smith gave after he was arrested. \Yell,
Smith conducted Major Andre to where Arnold was
w^aiting, and there left them. After a long time had
expired. Smith went into the bushes, and reminded
the conspirators that the night was far spent, and the
boat must return before daylight."

""Was Smith really acquainted with the treason
Arnold was hatching?" asked Ben.

" He says he was not," replied Matthew ; " but
that he understood that Arnold was arranging some
spy business with a man of the name of John An-
derson. I hardly believe him. I don't think he
could have thought so, when he had to go to the
Vulture, a British sloop-of-war, and bring the man
off. If Arnold was making arrangements with a man
from New York, to act as a spy, as Smith says he un-
derstood, how could that spy have been sent from a
British vessel, in the night, by the aid of the captain

AT MORRISTOTVN. 327

of the vessel ? It 's my private opinion that Smith
knew all about the matter. Bat, to return to the
etory. The conspirators were roused by this hint,
but not having effected the object of their meeting,
agreed that Smith and the boatmen should return up
the river. In the mean time, Andre mounted the
servant's horse, and went with Arnold to Smith's
House, but three or four miles from the place of
meeting. The night was very dark, and the voice
of the sentinel, demanding the countersign, first told
Andre that he was within the American lines. This
came unexpected to him, and he felt the danger of
his situation. The two horsemen arrived at Smith's
house just at dawn of day, and the boat soon after-
wards. Arnold had seen that Smith's family were
removed from the house, before he started on his
errand. About the time of the arrival of the whole
party at Smith's house, a cannonade was heard down
the river. It was soon discovered to be against the
Vulture, which was in full view from Smith's house,
and seemed to be on fire for a time. She was com-
pelled to move from her position, and drop down the
river, till she was beyond cannon-shot. Arnold and
Andre stayed at Smith's house, together, in a room
up-stairs, all that day, and there the business was
settled. There the selfish traitor sold his country
.for gold, along with all the great military lame he
had won. Pleasure and extravagance had led him

328 THE CAMP-FIRE

into heavy debts ; and, to get clear of them, he turned
a foul traitor to the cause of liberty, and left his name
as a stain on his country's honor. Well, Andre
stayed the next day at Smith's house, by himself;
Arnold having gone up the river, to his head-quarters.
I do n't know why Andre did not return to the Yul-
ture that night ; but I know he started for New York
by land. Major Andre had procured a plain coat in
exchange for his military one, as a disguise, and put
the papers concerning the treason, in his stockings.
He and Smith set out a little before sunset, accom-
panied by a negro servant belonging to Smith. They
rode to King's Ferry, in order to cross the river, from
Stony Point to Yerplanck's Point. On their way to
the Ferry, they met several persons that Smith knew,
and he laughed and joked with them, and even stopped
at a tent where some loungers were drinking, and
took a bowl of punch with them — Andre went slowly
ahead, saying nothing, and was waiting at the Ferry
when Smith overtook him. It appears that Smith
had tried to draw him into conversation on the road,
but did n't succeed."

" He understood the weight of the business he had
been transacting, I suppose, and that made him re-
served," said Ben.

^^ Or else he had a presentiment that he was going
to be detected," observed the other Pennsylvanian,
who, along with the Hibernians, contented himself

AT MORRISTOT^N. 329

with being a good listener, only making occasional
observations at intervals in the narrative.

" It was dusk in the evening," continued Matthew,
nodding assent to the interruptions of his comrades,
"when Smith and Andre rode up from the Ferry,
and passed through the works at Verplauck's Point.
Smith rode up to Colonel Livingston's tent, a short
distance from the road, but Andre and the servant
went on. Smith told Colonel Livingston that he was
going up the country, and had charge of two letters ;
one to Arnold, and the other to Governor Clinton.
He was asked to stay to supper ; but declined, on the
ground that his friend was waiting for him. He then
joined Andre. They got along very w^ell till between
eight and nine o'clock at night, when they were
hailed by a sentinel of a patrolling party. The man
ordered them to stop; and Smith accordingly dis-
mounted, and enquired who was the commander of
the party. The sentinel told him, Captain Boyd;
and, just then, the captain came up. He was very
inquisitive, and wanted to know who Smith was,
where he belonged, and what was his business. His
questions were all answered, but the Captain was n t
Batisfied. He wanted to know how far they were
going that niglit. Smith replied, as far as Major
Strang's ; but it happened that Strang was n't at
home. The passport of Arnold had to l)e shown to
the Captain, before he would be satisfied io let them
28*

330 THE CAMP-FIRE

pass. Even then, he wanted them to stop there all
night. Smith told him that he and his companion
expected to meet a person near White Plains, from
whom they could procure some important intelligence
for General Arnold, and that they must go forward
as quick as possible. The Captain finally directed
them to take the North-Castle road, as being the
least dangerous. He said that the Tarrytown road
was infested by the bands called ^Cow-boys,' and that
they had done much mischief lately. Smith began
to wish to stop for the night, when he heard of the
dangers of the road ; and at last he determined to
do so, whether Andre was willing or not. Accord-
ingly, they passed the night at the house of a man
named Miller, a Httle way back. The next morning,
they started very early, and took the road leading to
Pine's Bridge. After they had got beyond the reach
of the patrolling party, I suppose they thought all
their difficulties were over; for Smith says that
Major Andre conversed very freely, on a variety of
subjects. They passed along quietly — that is, they
were not disturbed by anybody wishing to stop them
— till they got within tw^o miles and a half of Pine's
Bridge. Here Smith intended to end his journey.
The Cow-boys had been seen on the other side of the
bridge, and it was a little too dangerous for him.
They took breakfast at the house of a Dutch woman,
w ho had been robbed by the Cow-boys, but who had

AT MORRISTOWX. 331

3til] some milk and pudding left to set before them.
After breakfixst, Smith divided his small lot of paper
money with Andre, and took leave of him. He then
returned with his servant to Fishkill, where he had
left his family, and Andre went on. The journey
Andre had to perform was a dangerous one. It w^as
through wdiat w^as called ' the neutral ground.' The
Cow^-boys and the Skinners, who ruled it, were bands
of robbers belonging to the different sides in the w^ar.
The Cow-boys were tories, and they plundered every
one who took the oath of fidelity to the State. The
Skinners were about half republicans, and they plun-
dered all who did not take the oath. Andre had
about thirty miles to travel before he could get
through this country. He did n't take the road that
Smith thought he would take, but turned off into the
Tarrytown road. This was the road where the Cow-
boys were ; and as they were tories, he thought he
w^ould be safer in their hands. It happened that, the
same morning on which Andre crossed Pine's Bridge,
seven persons, wdio lived on the neutral ground,
agreed to go out in company and watch for stragglers,
or droves of cattle, that might be seen going to New
York. Four of this party were stationed on a hill,
from which they could see along the road fur a great
distance. The other three, — Isaac Van Wart, John
Paulding, and David Williams, — lay in the [)ushes
at another place, near the road. Well, Andre came

332 THE CAMP-FIRE

on wi-thout interruption, till he arrived nearly oppo-
site where the men were in the bushes, — that wan
about half a mile above Tarrytown. There John
Paulding stepped out of the bushes, presented his
firelock to Andre's breast, and told him to stand. He
then asked him which way he was going, and Andre
enquired, in return, what party he belonged to ; to
which Paulding answered, ^ The lower party' — that
was, the Cow-boys. Andre then told Paulding that
he was a British officer, on particular business, and
hoped he would n't be detained ; and to show he was
a British officer, he pulled out his watch."

" Perhaps he wanted to offer it as a bribe to let him
pass," interrupted Ben.

"Not then," replied Matthew. "Paulding then
told him to dismount, and Andre tried to make a
laugh of the matter. He pulled out General Arnold's
pass, which was to John Anderson, to pass to White
Plains and below, and then dismounted ; telling the
men that they had best to let him go, or they 'd bring
themselves into trouble. Paulding told him not to
be offended, as he didn't intend to Hurt him. The
three then took him into the bushes, and ordered him
to pull off his clothes. He did so ; and after search-
ing him closel}^, they couldn't find any description
of writings. They then ordered him to pull off his
boots, — which he did, but nothing was found ; and
then they told him to pull off his stockings ; and in

AT MORRISTOWN. 333

each one they found three papers. Paulding looked
at the contents, and said at once that Andre was a
spy. They then told him to dress himself; and he
did so. He kept offering them large bribes to let him
go ; but Paulding answered, when he had made his
largest offer, that if he would give them one thousand
guineas, he should n't stir one step. Within a few
hours afterwards, Major Andre was put under the
care of Colonel Jameson, with all the papers which
had been taken from his boots."

" Here was the divil to pay," said Barney. '^ All
his throuble for nothin'."

" Yes, for a gallows," returned Matthew. ^* Colonel
Jameson examined the papers, but didn't seem to
comprehend their true value. He resolved to send
the prisoner to Arnold ! This was Andre's only
hope ; but it was destined to be disappointed. Colo-
nel Jameson penned a few lines to Arnold, and sent
the prisoner off, under a guard, to proceed to West
Point. Major Tallmadge, next in command to Jame-
son, was on duty wlien Andre was brought in, and
did not return till evening. He was surprised at
what Jameson had done, and persuaded him to have
Andre brought back. Tiie Major freely declared his
suspicions of Arnold ; but Jameson would n't listen
to them. It was determined to keep Major Andre in
close custody, till orders were received from Wash-
ington or Arnold ; for a letter had been despatched

334 THE CAMP-FIRE

to Washington as well as one to Arnold. As Lower
Salem was farther within the American lines than
North-Castle, Andre was removed to that place, early
the next morning after his capture, under the escort
of Major Tallmadge. While there, he was cheerful,
and made himself very much liked by all who came
in contact with him. He wrote a letter to Washing-
ton, in which he revealed his true name and character,
soon after his arrival. As Washington was expected
to stop at West Point, on his way to the army at
Tappan, Arnold kept breakfast waiting for him ; but
Washington was detained over night at Fishkill, and
he sent two of his aids to make known to Arnold the
cause of his detention. When the aids arrived and
delivered their message. General Arnold and his
family, and the aids, sat down to breakfast. While
they were at breakfast, the letter of Jameson reached
Arnold, and he broke it open and read it in presence
of the company. He was greatly agitated, but con-
trived to conceal it from those around him. He told
the aids that his presence was required immediately
at West Point, and that if Washington came, they
should tell him that he would soon return. He then
ordered a horse to be ready, and went up-stairs and
told his wife that he would have to leave her, perhaps
forever ; at which, she fell senseless. Pie left her, —
for he had no time to lose, — mounted his horse, and
rode with all speed to the bank of the river. There

AT MORRISTOWN. 335

he got into a boat, and directed the oarsmen to pull
out into the middle of the stream. The six oarsmen
didn't know anything of Arnold's treasonable inten-
tions, and they obeyed his orders. He told them he
was going down to the Yulture, with a Hag, and that
they must make haste, for Washington was expected
at his head-quarters. He also promised them two
gallons of rum, if they would exert themselves. Ar-
nold raised a white handkerchief as they approached
King's Ferry, and Colonel Livingston let the boat
pass as a flag-boat. She reached the Vulture without
being obstructed, and Arnold got on board and in-
troduced himself to Captain Sutherland. Then he
showed another instance of the meanness of his
character. He called the leader of the boatmen to
him, and told him that he and his companions were
prisoners. The man resisted, and said he had come
on board with a flag of truce, and under the same
sanction he would return. The captain did n't want
to resist the positive command of Arnold, but told
the man that he might go ashore on parole, and get
what clothes and other things he and his companions
needed. This was done the same day. When these
men arrived in New York, Clinton set them at liberty,
despising such an act of meanness."

" The more you enquire into Arnold's dealings, the
more mean and contemptible they appear," observed
Ben.

336 THE CAMP-FIRE

"Yes, tliat's true," replied Matthew. "In this
instance that I've just mentioned, it is particularly
true."

" How did "Washington act when he heard of the
flight of Arnold ?" asked Ben.

"I'm coming to that now/' replied Matthew.
" Washington arrived at Arnold's quarters soon after
his flight to the river. When he was told that Ar-
nold had been called over to the garrison, he took a
hasty breakfast, and resolved to go and meet him at
West Point. He and his officers, — except Hamilton,
who remained behind, at the house, — intended to re-
turn to dinner. When they were seated in the barge,
Washington said he was glad that Arnold had gone
before, as they would have a salute, and the roaring
of the cannon would have a fine eflect among the
mountains. The boat approached the beach ; but no
preparation appeared to have been made to receive
them, and no salute was fired. The officer in com-
mand of the garrison was seen coming down to meet
them ; and as the barge touched the shore, he seemed
confused and surprised at seeing the commander-in-
chief and his oflicers. He said he did not expect
such visitors, or he would have been prepared to re-
ceive them in a proper manner. Washington seemed
no less surprised than the ofiicer himself He asked
if General Arnold was not there. The officer told
hnn that he had not been there for two days, and

AT MORRISTOWN. 337

that he had not heard from him in that time. Wash-
ington was still more surprised at this intelligence,
but inspected the garrison, and all the different parts
of the works, thoroughly. This took up about two
hours. At the end of that time, Washington and
the officers returned to the barge, and were conducted
again to Robinson's house. While they were on their
way from the river to the house, Hamilton came
directly to Washington, with an anxious countenance ;
and after a few words in a whisper had passed between
them, they retired together to the house. While
Washington was at West Point, the letter from Jame-
son, and the one from Major Andre, arrived by the
same express. Jameson's letter contained the papers
taken from Andre ; and the express which brought
it and the letter from Andre, had followed Washing-
ton, as was supposed, on the route from Hartford.
Washington had returned by another road, and that
is the reason it missed him. When the despatches
came to Robinson's house, they were said to be of
such importance, that Hamilton opened them and
discovered their contents. The papers were laid
before Washington without hinting what they con-
tained to anybody else. The whole extent of Ar-
nold's treachery was here made clear to Washington.
Hamilton was immediately ordered to ride to Ver-
planck's Point, that preparations might be made to
stop Arnold ; but it was a great deal too late. Ar-
29 W

838 THE CAMP-FIRE

nold had got six hours' start. He left his house at
ten o'clock ; and his treachery was not known to
Washington till four in the afternoon. Washington
acted with the greatest calmness and self-possession
after the plot was discovered. He called Lafayette
and Knox, and told them what had happened, and
showed them the papers. He only said, ' Whom can
we trust now?' Mrs. Arnold was frantic with dis-
tress. Nothing could calm her; and her situation
affected Washington very much. When Hamilton
arrived at Yerplanck's Point, a flag of truce had
come from the Vulture to that post, with a letter
from Arnold to Washington. This was sent at once
to Washington, with a note from Hamilton. Sir
Henry Clinton, it appears, knew nothing of the
capture of Andre, till the Vulture arrived at New
York, the next morning."

" Well, you need n't tell us about the execution of
Andre. We know as much about that as you can
tell us, I guess," said Ben.

"Thank you, Ben, for your gratitude," returned
Matthew. "Here I've been amusing the whole of
the party for two hours or more, and, instead of
thanking me for it, you interrupt me. But I '11 stop
now ; and that 's the last story, or narrative, or song,
you '11 get out of me."

"Och, niver mind the b'y; go on wid ye," said
Barney.

AT MORRISTOTTN. 339

But solicitation was vain ; Matthew was inflexible
in his resolution ; and, in the end, the men were com-
pelled to set about preparing for the night's rest.
The fire was arranged so as to occupy less space, and
yet give out sufficient warmth to keep the men from
freezing during the night. The blanket — the sol-
dier's luxury — was produced by each one of them.
Meantime, they continued talking.

"Och, I wonther what sort of a traither Arnold
would have turned, if he had had such murtherin'
livin' as we have ?" enquired Barney.

" Perhaps," said Matthew, " if he had been a com-
mon soldier, and lived as we have to live, he would
have been more faithful. In such a life, there would
have been no heavy debts to v/orry him into doing
anything to get money."

"I hardly believe that," returned Ben. "Arnold
was a wholly selfish man. I do n't know of any-
thing he done that did n't have its motive in some
self-gratification. He performed many daring acts;
but it was for the glory attached to the deeds, and
not because he thought they would be a benefit to his
country."

"Don't judge too quickly," said Matthew. "Al-
ways give a man credit for the best motive, till you
know the contrary."

" If he had performed some deed, in wliich he
would be called upon to suffer in reputation, although

340

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN.

such a deed would really benefit his country, as Gen-
eral Washington has done, he might escape the cen-
sure/' observed Ben ; " but none such appears in his
whole career."

^^ Perhaps no opportunity presented/' replied Mat-
thew. " But we '11 talk over this matter some other
time."

The whole party had prepared themselves as well
as circumstances would admit, for the night's rest;
and some were already stretched by the fire, as Mat-
thew and Ben ceased talking. Unimportant remarks
were occasionally made by the Hibernians ; but very
soon even they grew mute, as sleep folded her cur-
tains around them. Then the sough of the wind, as
it wandered around the hut and pierced through the
crevices, was all that tended to disturb their repose ;
for they could sleep on their hard bed, though the
cold air did come in upon them. They were soldiers
who had passed through the hardships of a three
years' service in that army whose sufferings had
scarcely a parallel.

THE CAMP-FIRE ON" THE OLD PEDEE.

After the disastrous defeat of the American army
under General Gates, at Camden, in South Carolina,
General Greene was appointed to supersede him in
the command. A better selection for that office could
not have been made. General Greene united in his
character all those qualities necessary to retrieve the
reputation of the American arms in the South, and
to build up an army on the ruins of the one handed
over to him by General Gates. The unbounded
fruitfulness of resource; the j^rudence of his judg-
ment ; the energy of his movements ; and the cool
courage which he displayed in the time of greatest
danger ; have caused him to be ranked second only
to Washington, among the generals of the Revolution.
He overtook the remnant of the army at Charlotte ;
to which place Gates had advanced. The appearance
of the army was wretched beyond description; :uid
their distress, on account of the scarcity of provisions,
was little less than from their want of clothing and
other necessaries. Gates had lost the confidence of
2D '■^' C341)

342 THE CAMP-FIRE

all tlie officers, and the troops were without discipline.
Plunder was the only resource they had for obtaining
provisions, and they became the terror of the neigh-
borhood. The officers were obliged to live upon
charity; making daily collections in that manner,
and then only obtaining a little Indian meal and beef
at a time. This was the state of the army when
Greene took command. Almost naked in the middle
of winter ; obtaining food only by force or begging ;
among a people divided in their political sentiments
and attachment ; the troops were dispirited and unfit
for action. Greene immediately removed the army
from Charlotte, and encamped in the midst of a better
country, on the banks of the Old Pedee Eiver. The
consequences of this movement showed how judicious
it was. The camp soon abounded with supplies for
man and horse, principally procured by the personal
efforts of Greene ; and the most assiduous exertions
were made, to clothe and discipline the troops.
Everything seemed more promising.

It was a clear, cold night in January, 1781, soon
after the army had encamped on the Old Pedee
River. The moon threw her pale, ghostly light over
the encampment and upon the surface of the river.
The watch-fires of heaven were burning brightly
above, but shed no warmth upon those beneath. The
wind creaked through the trees, and swept piercingly
across the river and through the encampment. la

ON THE OLD PEDEE. 343

one of the tents, near the edge of the river, a party
of men were huddled around a fire, partaking of the
morsel allotted to them for an evening meal. The
winters of South Carolina were mild, compared with
those further north, and which the American army
endured at Yalley Forge ; but the men were almost
naked. The tent was large enough to lodge about
half-a-dozen men. The fire was in the centre, and
the men were sitting around it.

" Well, Joe," said one of the men, w^ho had just
put his last piece in his mouth, " this is a kind o'
hard farin' ; ain't it ? Now that we Ve got somethin'
to eat, without stealin it, I wish we could come across
some clothes in the same way."

"Ah," returned another, "we call this hard farin';
if all be true that I've heard tell about how the
troops suffered up north there, in the early part of
the war, this livin' of ours is good. We think it's
cold, just now, because it makes us shiver and huddle
around this 'ere fire. Why, I've heard tell that
when the soldiers used to be marchin', the ice would
cut their bare feet, and set the blood flowin' ; the men
used to be froze fast to the ground, till their comrades
broke them away."

" Oh, that 's })ilin' it on too thick. Their marches
were tracked by the blood from their feet, but there
was no such thing as you're tellin' us about," replied
another of the group.

34'! THE CAMP-FIKE

" So I Ve heard 'em say," continued the one who
had delivered himself of the story. " Them " is the
usual indefinite authority.

" That Gates was the cause of all our troubles,"
remarked the one who had spoken first. " If that
German baron's advice had been followed, there
would n't have been a defeat at Camden."

"No, nor a battle neither; he knew w^e weren't
fit for a fight," added the one who had been called
Joe.

" They say that Gates told him he w^as a coward,
just before the battle ; he ought to be alive now, to
throw it back to the man that went to fetch the
rascals back, and did n't come back himself," observed
another.

"Did any of you hear about the doin's at that
council of war, held while the enemy w^ere comin'
up ?" asked one of the men.

"Yes," replied another. "Sergeant Hand was
tellin' us all about it ; though, how he got to know
anythin' of it, I do n't understand."

" Oh, he 's imitate with some of the officers higher 'n
himself," said another, who had not spoken before ;
"besides, you know, while Gates was in command,
just before Greene come, they were n't near so con-
founded strict with us as they are now, and they 'd
tell us anythin' to hurt Gates."

" Well, there's no use o' turnin' in yet 3 besides, if

ON THE OLD PEDEE. 34.5

we do, the fire '11 get down, and it's most plaguy
chilly. So, Joe, you 're the gabbiest one of the lot,
tell us about it; will you?" said the one who had
asked about the council of war.

Joe w^as nothing loth to talk ; indeed, he liked to
talk. The men declared that he spoke enough for
the whole party. As soon as the call was made,
therefore, he caught it up eagerly, and, wdth a few
preparatory hawkings and spittings, he commenced
his narration.

'^ You see, boys, I may as well give you a wdiole
account of the council of war and the death of the
brave old German. For though I was with you
chaps, in the rear of where he fell, I 've been pickin'
up an account of the whole matter, from some of the
men that were fightin' round him, a-trying to save
him."

^^Yes, Joe," interrupted one of the men, "only
do n't put in any of your own make. Mind, we seen
as much of it as you did."

"Oh, there's no use of lyin' aliout the thing. All
I'm a-goin' to tell you, I've heard 'em say who was
there and seen it all. Well, in the first place, I
heard that, the night before the ])attle, some of the
ofTicers were talkin' to Gates about the expected fight,
— among which officers was Baron de Kalb ; and one
of the ollicurs, in talkin', happened to say, * i wonder
where we shall dine to-morrow.' No doubt, he had a

346 THE CAMP-FIKE

sort o' feelin' that we were goin' to be whipped next
day. Well, Gates had a pretty certain kind of a
way about him, you know ; and he said, — as if there
couldn't be any doubt about the matter, — 'Dine, sir ?
why, at Camden, to be sure. I would n't give a pinch
of snufF, sir, to be insured a beef-steak, to-morrow,
in Camden, and Lord Cornwallis at my table.' I
do n't know what he counted on for winnin' the
battle ; but I s'pose he thought he was a whole army
himself. The Baron de Kalb was there, as I said
before; and he said he was decidedly against the
doin's of Gates, and foretold how the army would be
ruined if a battle was fought then ; and he said, too,
that he believed he was goin' to fall in the fight.
You see, he was a man of some judgment; he was
an old general, that had fought in Europe, and he
knew when an army was fit for fightin', and when it
wasn't; but Gates seemed to think that he didn't
know as much about the matter as he himself did ;
and so he didn't pay much attention to it. Well,
the next day, when we got wind of the approach of
the red-coat army. Gates called a council of war of
his officers ; and you know that most of 'em seconded
him, and went for fightin' the enemy at once; but
De Kalb opposed it. He said that it would be best
for the army to fall back, and take a good position,
and wait for the enemy to come and attack us ; then
we would stand a better chance with our raw troops ;

ONTUEOLDPEDEE. oil

for we had very little cavalry. Then, they say,
Gates would hardly listen to this advice ; and when
De Kalb had concluded givin' it, Gates said he was
fixed on fightin' then and there ; and a kind of hinted
that De Kalb was afraid to fight. At the hint bein'
given, they say, De Kalb's face colored up ; and
lookin' at Gates with the contempt he deserved, he
said, ' Well, sir, a few hours, perhaps, will prove who
are the brave;' and then he jumped down from his
horse, and went and put himself at the head of his
command, on foot. I'd have given all the little
clothes I 've got on my back now — and that 's the
most valuable thing to me here — if I could have seen
the old man when he done that. It would have done
me good, I know. I like to see a man who knows
his worth, show his contempt of the one who attacks
him in that way. His sayin what he did, shows,
too, that he could see right through Gates, and what
would be his actions next day. Well, you know all
about the skirmishes we had that night, and how tlie
militia were dispirited by the advance bein' broken
and driven back ; and you know, too, how, the next
mornin', the battle begun in earnest. The whole left
wing, as soon as they were charged by the red-coat
bagonets, threw down their arms and run, as if they
never had a thought of doin' any fightin'."

'' Yes, we know all about that ; there 's no use of
your tellin it all over again," said one of the men.

348 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Well, I won't," returned Joe ; '^ but the militia in
the left wing threw down their arms and run, as I
said before; and Gates went 'to bring the rascals
back/ and stayed himself. But we continentallers
were in the right wing, and we didn't run. We
stood there like men, and fought the whole force of
the red-coats."

'' Yes, and whipped them nicely for awhile. I saw
several prisoners taken, myself," put in one of the
men.

'^ There was the Baron de Kalb," continued Joe,
getting animated in retailing a description given him
by some one else, — " There was the Baron de Kalb,
fightin' hand to hand vv^ith the enemy; fightin' on
foot, at the head of our troops — showin' who was the
brave. The men were fallin' thick around him,
standin' by him to the last. He cut down all that
pressed on him ; and the man who told me about it,
says he saw him j^lunge his sword into the breast of
his foes, as they aimed their blows at him ; but it was
all up-hill work. The brave old man fainted and fell
to the ground ; he had eleven bagonet wounds. Then
there was a rush made to shield his body. The in-
fernal red-coats tried to get at him with their bago
nets, and our men tried to stop 'em. Some of the
Britishers tried to save him, as well as- our men, but
they were killed in makin' the attempt. Then his
aM-de-camp rushed in through the clashing bagonets,

ON THE OLD PEDEE. 349

and stretcliin' his arms over the body of the old hero,
cried out, ' Save the Baron de Kalb ! save the Baron
de Kalb !' I suppose the Britishers did n't know who
he was before ; for as soon as the aid-de-camp cried
out, some British officers rushed in, and stopped the
Britishers from killin' hira right off. We couldn't
stand the force of the enemy any longer, after De
Kalb fell, and we had to quit the field. I 've heard
tell, since, that the red-coats took care of De Kalb,
but he didn't live long; he thought of us, and the
bravery we showed that day, till the last minute of
his life. He said he died the death he always prayed
for ; — the death of the soldier fightin' for the rights
of man. He was a great man, indeed ; and whenever
I think of him, it makes me feel as if I could chaw
some of them red-coats right up !"

"He was a great old man, as you say," observed
one of the men, " but his death appears to have been
more glorious than any other event of his career ;
and very few of us, perhaps, will have that said of
us."

" That you do n't know," said Joe ; " he served a
great while in the French army in Europe, and bore
a very high rank there. He might have seen many
a glorious fight."

" He served three years in our army, too, and was
m some of our hardest fights," observed another of
the group.
20

350 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Yes/' returned the one who had spoken first after
Joe had finished his account^ " but there was more of
the real hero shown in the manner of his death than
in anything else that we know of. It 's a great sight
to see a man choose his ground, and hold on to it till
he is cut down by the overpowering force of the
enemy. It 's what few men who go into battle think
of. Too many of the battles we hear tell of are
made up of a few rounds of firing, and then a retreat
of one party or the other. Men ought to go into a
fight with the intention of whipping or being whipped ;
and so did De Kalb and the men under him, the day
of the battle of Camden."

" Well, Mr. Preacher, you talk well enough about
the matter. The next fight we have, we '11 ask for
your instruction. This idea of yours, about a fellow's
fightin' till he 's cut up, ain't what it's cracked up to
be, when you come to tryin' it," said an individual
who had hitherto remained silent. Probably, he was
one of those who had retreated early in the battle of
which they were talking.

" He talks like a man of courage," said Joe ; ^^ and
I think he 's one of the kind that follows out what
he says. I 've seen him stand to his post when many
a one would n't."

" Thank ye, Joe, for that good word," returned the
one who had criticised the manner in which battles
were occasionally fought.

ox TKE OLD PEDEE. 351

"Well, boys," said one of the soldiers, who had
not taken any part in the conversation, or even lis-
tened to any of it, having been taking a nap by the
fire, " have you heard about the surprise of Sumpter,
at Fishing Creek ? I do n't know anything about the
battle of Camden, or De Kalb, either, any more than
I 've heard you tell ; but if you have n't heard about
the surprise of Sumpter's troops, I can amuse you for
a little while, by tellin' you about it."

' Yes, but we did n't hear any of the particulars,"
replied Joe. " That long customer, over there, that
just was talkin' about there bein' no fun in fightin'
till you 're cut up, was tellin' us about the affair ; but
he did n't seem to know much about it himself, and
he could n't tell us much. He said there was some
little fightin', and a great deal of runnin' away."

The soldier who had volunteered to give an ac-
count of the surprise, looked over the fire at the in-
dividual alluded to by Joe, and seemed, for a moment,
to detect in him some resemblance to a person he had
seen before ; but he said nothing about the matter,
and commenced : —

" I was one of the body of men under Sumpter,
who, before the defeat of Gates, at Camden, captured
some British stores and their convoy between Camden
and Charleston. I had joined the corps just before
that took phace, thinkin' that the kind of fightin he
done was more to my taste than iiic regular service."

352 THE CAMP-FIEE

At the announcement of the soldier that he had be-
longed to Sumpter's troops, the long individual looked
over the fire in his turn. The scrutiny which he
gave the soldier's face seemed to satisfy him of some-
thing; for he immediately got very restless in his
seat. He said nothing, however, and the soldier con-
tinued. " We continued at the post between Camden
and Charleston, our parties seekin' every chance to
harass the British forces, till we heard of the defeat
of Gates, when we also began to retreat, with what
prisoners and stores we had captured while at that
post. We retreated in the greatest kind of haste,
for we knew we should have the British troops after
us — we had caused them so much trouble. We
marched four days, with little or no sleep or rest;
and at the end of that time we thought we had got
pretty much out of the reach of the enemy, and we
encamped on the banks of Fishing Creek, for the
night. Sumpter took every precaution to prevent a
surprise. Yidettes were stationed at proper points,
and such a disposition of the troops made, that it
seemed almost impossible to come upon us before we
had time for preparing for an attack. But the vi-
dettes were men ; and marching four days, without
resting, would overcome some of the stoutest men.
They fell asleep at their posts ; and, soon after, the
camp was aroused by the attack of the British legion
of Tarleton. He had pursued us with the most un-

ON THE OLD PEDEE. 353

tiring swiftness, and his horsemen rode into our camp
before we knew he was near us. The best part of
our men took to the river and the woods ; but Sump-
ter raUied a few of them, myself among the number,
and we stood our ground for awhile pretty stoutly
against Tarleton's infantry ; but his horse forced us
to break, and we took to the woods. All our artillery
and stores, and the prisoners we had taken at our
former post, were captured. I escaped through the
woods, and the whole of our detachment being dis-
persed, and not having any place where they would
meet again, I determined to join the regular army."

By the time the man had concluded his story, the
individual who had attracted his scrutiny felt satisfied
that he would not be noticed by the narrator ; but he
was mistaken.

" I had almost forgot something, though," said the
soldier. '^ That fellow over yonder, who was talking
a little while ago about the folly of fighting till you 're
whipped, was at that affair, I 'm pretty certain. He
was in the same company as I was, and I think he
was true to his principles ; for he was one of the first
to leave the ground."

" Oh, you 've got hold of the wrong feller ; I was n't
there," said the man alluded to.

" I believe it," said Joe. " lie looks and talks like
one of the brave boys."

" There 's no use of denying it," said the one who
30* X

354 THE CAMP-FIRE

had given the account of the surprise. "I don't
forget men s faces so easily."

The advocate of runaway principles persisted in
denying that he had been with Sumpter at all ; but
the whole party joined in the expression of their be-
lief that he was guilty.

'^ We '11 put him in the forlorn hope, next time, if
he stays with our army ; that '11 do him some good,
perhaps," observed Joe.

The men wrapped themselves in their blankets ; —
that is, those who had them ; — and those who did
not possess that soldier's luxury, secured the nearest
place to the fire, for the purpose of resting for the
night. While Joe was getting ready, like the rest,
he continued talking.

"That surprise of Sumpter was another conse-
quence of the battle of Camden. It 's a great pity,
too ) that was an active set of men, and might have
been of great service to our cause."

"Yes," replied the soldier who had been with
Sum;- ter, " you may well say that. I 've heard tell
that Cornwallis said that Sumpter gave him more
trouble than anybody else in these parts. The red-
coats do n't understand that sort of war he does ; but
he's not done with 'em yet. Twenty such defeats
would n't dampen his spirits."

The men had by this time fixed themselves by the
fire, and some of them were soon slumbering; but

ON THE OLD PEDEE.

OOO

Joe would occasionally break out, propounding some
question or other to the individual next to him, till
even he ceased to disturb the gathering silence, and
the toils and cares of the whole party were soon for
gotten, while they wandered in the land of dreams.

Gouunil bumpier.

Genersl Marion.

THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE SWAMP.

The history of the exploits of the partisan bands
of Marion and Sumpter, in South Carolina, is, per-
haps, the most interesting and romantic that the war
of independence furnishes. The defeat of Gates, and
the almost total annihilation of his army, gave the
entire command of the State to Lord Cornwallis ; but
though Marion or Sumpter had no force competent to
oppose the British in the open field, they had gathered
a few men who were willing to undergo any priva-
tion, for the sake of the independence of their coun-
try, and who cherished an undying hatred of the
tyranny of the English rule. These few were filled
with the active spirit of their leaders. The north-
eastern part of the State of South Carolina was the
field of Marion's operations. There the party under
his command took refuge in the recesses of deep
swamps, where the enemy would not dare to follow
them. From these retreats they would sally out,
whenever an opportunity ofiered to harass the enemy,
and thus they kept the British in a constant state of
29 * C356)

THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE SWAMP. 357

alarm. The party, for several weeks, numbered only
seventy men ; and, at one time, hardships and dan-
gers of various kinds reduced that number to twenty-
five. Major Wemys, the British commander in that
part of the country, wished to prevent the surround-
ing inhabitants from co-operating with Marion, and
accordingly, burnt scores of houses on the Pedee,
Lynch's Creek, and Black Eiver. But these outrages,
of course, only served to incite the owners to revenge,
and many of them took refuge with Marion's party,
in the swamp. For several months, they were obliged
to sleep in the open air, and to fly from one post to
another, as the occupation of one became too trouble-
some and dangerous. Unfurnished with the means
of defence, they were obliged to take possession of
the saws of the saw-mills, and make them into horse-
men's swords. Often was Marion so distressed for
ammunition, that he had only three rounds to each
man of his party, with which he entered into an en-
gagement. At other times, he brought his men into
view when he had no ammunition, merely to make
a show of his numbers.

The fire was lighted in the swamp. It was on a
sort of eminence that formed an island, surrounded
by a deep morass. It was a usual resort of the party
of Marion, and there he feared no foe. The trees
around had been cut down, and, trimmed, they formed
seats for the men, who occupied them, here and there,

358 THE CAMP-FIRE

in groups. They had evidently just returned from
some excursion ; for the men looked tired, and on the
ground, near the fire, some guns and provisions were
lying, the fruit of a nightly surprise and attack.
They were a motley-looking set of men ; scarce two
of them dressed alike. Some were tall, brawny fel-
lows, that looked as if they could cope with any one
that stood before them. Others were as small and
dried-up looking as Marion himself, who sat near the
fire, talking to one of his men. Old, black-looking fire-
locks and powder-horns were the principal weapons
to be seen ; here and there, a horseman's sword dan-
gled from the owner's belt. The meal of hoe-cakes
and sweet-potatoes was cooking at the fire. No
better fare could they procure till that night's expe-
dition gave it to them. A colored individual was
exercising the functions of cook, in keeping the hoe-
cake and potatoes from burning, with a stick which
he had in his hand. Several pine-knots served as
lamps, for the time; and the efiect of the light,
glaring upon the scene, was truly singular.

The fact of the meal being ready, having been
communicated to the party, the General and his
officers were first served, — bark being the substitute
for dishes. Each man then received his share, upon
a piece of bark, and they fixed themselves, in messes
of three or four, as near the fire as convenient, and
proceeded to make way with the food. To one of

IN THE SWAMP. 359

these messes we will direct our attention. It was
composed of the renowned Sergeant Macdonald and
three others, — men belonging to the horse of the
party.

"Have the scouts been sent out yet, sergeant?"
asked one of the men.

" No ; the General 's just goin' to do it/' was the
reply ; and as Macdonald spoke, Marion gave a low
whistle, which was answered by three of the men.
He gave his orders to them in a low tone, and they
proceeded, through the deep shade of the trees, to
where the horses of the party were placed, under
charge of two of the blacks. The men were soon
mounted and off, and their comrades went on with
their eating and talking, which the departure of the
scouts had interrupted.

" I wonder what the General 's after now," said one
of the group to which we before alluded. There
must be something in the wind, of some importance."

" You may be sure of that, Green," replied another
of the group — a tall, stout fellow, with a very red
face, looking as if the sun had done its worst upon it.
" You never see the little man so careful and quiet
in his motions, but there *s somethin' goin' on that '11
give us work."

" Well," said the Scotch sergeant, " I '11 follow any-
where the Fox leads. But I think we 'd better get
some rest now, while there 's a bit o' spare time."

360 THE CAMP-FIRE

So saying, the sergeant and his comrades stretched
themselves upon the grassy carpet that covered the
island; but not to sleep. The day was generally
their time for sleeping ; for in the night they could
do the most execution with their small but active
band.

"Now I'll talk to ye/' said Macdonald, as he
stretched himself at lengthy with his head resting on
one handj while he brought his food to his mouth
with the other.

"Well, sergeant," remarked Green, "can't you tell
us some of your adventures, or the General's, I do n't
care which, just to kill time till the scouts come in?
You 've been leadin' this rough and tumble sort of a
life for some time with Marion, and you must have
had some adventures worth tellin'. Besides, here 's
our friend Moran, here, has only been along with us
since his house was burnt by the Britishers. He 'd
like to hear something of it, too."

"Yes, sergeant," said Moran, "I'm anxious to
hear about any nice tricks you 've served them in-
fernal d Is that burnt the house over my head ;

any real good floggin', or tantalizin', or even cheatin',
you 've done them fellers, would do me good ; for I
expect to eat some ot 'em right up, if I once get a
chance."

" Oh," returned the sergeant, " I 've done many a
nice thing for 'em, and Marion has done as many

IN THE ST7AMP. 361

more ; but I '11 tell you one of my own doin', first,
because I know more about it than I do of any of
the General's. I think it was about a month a2;o,
when the number of our men was reduced to some-
where about thirty ; rather a small band for a general
to command, you might say ; but that 's all there was,
anyhow. Well, we were driven to all sorts of shifts
for gettin' somethin' to eat ; and the large bodies of
red-coats there was about, kept us cooped up all the
time in the swamp. One day, — I think it was pretty
near dusk, — I was out, with two others, seein' if I
could n't come across some provisions. We had been
out all the afternoon, and not a mite had we got for
our trouble. Nothin' in the shape of either eatin' or
drinkin' articles come in my ken. We was gettin'
pretty desperate, I tell ye ; it 's like enough if we had
come across fifty men, we would have stolen all they
had with 'em to eat. Well, we were ridin' on through
the woods, just outside of the swamp, when, just
about two hundred yards ahead of us, we thought
we seed a smoke. Of course, we expected there was
a fire there, and, perhaps, somethin' to fill our maws
with. So we stopped our horses on the instant, and,
gettin' down from 'em, tied 'em to the trees. Then
we walked sneakin'ly towards where we saw the
smoke risin' ; and when we got pretty near it, I
climbed up a tree, to reconnoitre, while the two men
kept watcli below. There I could sec the whole
31

362 THE CAMP-FIRE

scene that was passin' where the smoke was risin\
There was about ten of the red-coat infantry seated
round a fire, while a servant was preparin' a meal for
'em. I knew that there must be a larger party of
'em pretty near, for they would n't dare to be there
at that time in the day, with such a small number ;
but I didn't care if the whole British army were
about; I was goin' to have some of their eatin'. So
I took a pretty good look at 'em, to see how things
stood, and I saw that they had no conveyance among
'em for their cookin' things that were on the fire.
Well, I knew that there ought to have been one
somewhere ; and I got down with the intention of
goin' to see if I could find it. I told the other two
how things stood, and told one of 'em to stay with
the horses, while I took the other along with me.
We took our swords only with us ; the guns we left
to the care of the man who waited with the horses.
We then stole carefully round where the fire vfas,

lookin' ahead of us, to see whether they noticed

us, — till we got round nearly opposite to where we
left the horses. Then we got nearer to the fire ; we
could almost hear what the red-coats were talkin'
about. Lookin' through the trees on one side of me,
I spied a big tin box ; it seemed to be about two feet
long, and one wide. That was what we were huntin
for, I knew at once. So we creeped on our hands
and knees to it, and found it was nearly full of the

IN THE STTAJIP. 3G

nicest kind of eatin' and drinkin' things. I got up
to take a look how things were round the fire, and
found everything goin' on as if there was nobody
about. My comrade and I took up the box, and
walked around to where we left the horses. I had a
sort of fear, as you may call it, that the servant might
go to hunt the box, to get somethin' out of it ; but
he did n't, as it happened, and we got the box safely
round to the horses. The man we left there had
mounted, and had everything ready for a hard ride,
if it should be necessary. We mounted our horses
and took our weapons ; but I did n't intend to leave
the party of red-coats in such a quiet way. I had a
fine, fleet horse, and I knew there was none there
could catch me, if I once got started. So I gave the
box to the two men, and told 'em to ride straight for
the camp, here in the swamp. They set out, and I
waited till I saw they were pretty well out of reach ;
and then I fixed the rifle I had with me — one of
them ncver-fails, that you don't come across often.
I rode to a place that was somewliat open and clear
from underwood, where I could liave a full view of
the party of red-coats, yet 1)0 hid behind the low
boughs of the trees. The party were all stand in' up,
holdin' their cups in their hands; the leader was in
the middle, close to the fire. I supposed they were
just goin' to drink a toast — and I was right. The
one who seemed to be the principal man among *em,

364 THE CAMP-FIRE

raised his cup above his head, and cried out, at the
top of his voice, ^Here's the health of our most
gracious master, King George the Third !' As soon
as I found there was goin' to be a toast drunk, I knew
at once whose health it would be, because that was
always the first toast of the red-coats. I looked
around, to see if the coast was clear, and turned my
horse's head in the direction my men had gone ; and
just as the leader had finished his toast, I sung out,
at the top of my voice, ^ Here 's to the death of the
tyrant !' and, on the instant, took aim at the head of
the leader, and let fly. The sound of my voice, and
the report of my rifle, made the whole party spring
round, to see where it came from 5 but when they
saw their leader fall dead, they were so frightened,
that I believe if I had had a few more men with me,
I could have taken the whole party prisoners. I
did n't stop any longer, though ; for as soon as I saw
the leader fall, and the state the red-coats were in
about it, I give a loud laugh, and put spurs to my
horse ; and by the time they could get their guns and
send a volley after me, I was out of their reach. I
didn't fear pursuit, then; for I knew the woods a
good deal better than they did, and they knew, as it
was gettin' dark pretty fast, that our men would be
about, and might pick ofi* some more of 'em. I rode
on, however, to the camp in this here j)lace, where
I found the men with the box of provisions. That

IN THE SWAMP. 365

was one of my adventures, and I think I served 'em
a pretty neat trick. I do n't think I 'd have shot that
leader, though, if he had n't been so braggy and noisy
with that toast of his. I intended to fire in the air ;
but I could n't stand the temptation of puttin' an end
to his braggin'."

" That was a bold feat," observed Moran ; " but it

served the red-coat d Is exactly right. They

burnt the house over my head, and drove my family
to hunt a shelter where they could find one. You
ought to have shot more of 'em ;" and Moran looked
very revengeful and savage.

"Ah, well," replied the sergeant, "I hardly like to
bring down game in that kind of a way. It 's too
much like murderin'. I like to meet the enemy in
a fair field, if I can. But I 've no doubt they 'd have
done as much for me as I done for their captain, if
they had had the chance."

" That they would," said Green, emphatically.

" Well, sergeant," said Moran, '- 1 hope you 're not
run out yet. You must have some more of the same
sort."

" Oh, man, I could talk to you the whole night,
about such doin's; but — hist!" said the sergeant,
stopping short, "What's the game now? The
Swamp-Fox is stcalin' round as if he smelt some-
thin'.'*

Most of the party had stretched themselves on the

366 THE CAMP-FIRE

ground; and some were taking a short nap, while
others were passing the time away, talking with their
comrades. All had their guns and other weapons
lying beside them, prepared for any sudden emer-
gency. Marion had left the group where he had
been talking, and pretty soon he was seen stealing
quietly around the outside of the encampment. It
seemed as if he had caught the sound of some one
approaching. All eyes that were awake were in-
stantly directed to his movements, and a silence, only
disturbed at intervals by the slight plash made by
an alligator, diving, or the dismal hooting of an owl,
pervaded the scene. Just as the General had got
round to the place where the scouts had left the
camp, he seemed to listen more intently for a while,
and then slowly returned to his first position. The
pattering of the hoofs of horses was then plainly
heard by the listening men, and the scouts rode into
the camp ; their horses covered with mud, and foam-
ing somewhat at the mouth. The men sprang from
their horses, and gave them into the charge of the
blacks, and immediately proceeded to give Marion
the result of their reconnoitring. As soon as the
General was possessed of the intelligence, he gave a
cry — an imitation of the cry of the swamp-fox —
and the whole party instantly sprang to their feet.
The General called his few officers to him, and whis-
pered his orders ; they then went to ascertain if their

IN THE SWAMP. 367

men were prepared. The horses were brought out,
and by far the largest part of the men were mounted.
A few moments served to get everything in readiness,
and, with the General at the head, and the other
officers scattered through the line, the band left the
encampment in single file, by the same way as the
scouts had previously gone. At that place, no doubt,
there was a safe passage over the morass that sur-
rounded the island on which was the encampment.
The night was dark, and the party had to carry tAvo
or three pine-knot torches with them, to light the
way, as they rode through bog and brake. After
riding through the swamp in this manner, for about
half an hour, they attained the solid ground of the
wood that skirted the swamp. Here the order was
given to halt, and the party were drawn up in closer
order. The scouts were sent out to reconnoitre, while
the General, through his officers, explained to his
men how he wished them to act. The game was a
detachment of the British troops, which had been
ascertained to be about three hundred strong. They
had been sent in pursuit of Marion, and they had
encamped just outside of tlie wood that surrounded
the swamp, upon the bank of a small stream. Marion
had determined to surprise them ; and although his
own force was no more than half that of the enemy,
he had the advantage in knowing. the country better
than they did. They had encamped in a very favor-

368 THE CAMP-FIRE

able position, with their front to the wood, and had
their videttes posted, to prevent surjDrise. The scouts
returned to Marion and reported how matters stood ;
and, with a slight exhortation to his men to do their
duty, and some additional orders to the officers, he
gave the order to proceed. The torches were hid
where they could be found when necessary, and the
band moved silently, but quickly, through the wood.
A small party were placed in the advance. They
soon caught sight of the camp-fires of the British de-
tachment. The videttes perceived them, and fired
their guns; but they were upon the camp in a
moment, before the alarm was fairly given. They
rushed into the midst of the British like a hurricane,
bearing down all before them, while the drum was
heard beating, calling the enemy to arms. They left
their camp and fled in every direction, in the endea-
vor to escape from the sabres of Marion's men ; while
their pursuers shouted as they drove them before
them. Uncertain how large the force was that had
attacked them, their fears magnified it to twice the
amount it really was. Some were killed, a few cap-
tured, and the remainder were dispersed in every
direction. The band of Marion soon returned to the
enemy's camp, from the pursuit, and set to work to
share the spoils in such a manner as to make them
easy of carriage. A large quantity of arms and pro-
visions of all kinds were captured, together with a

IN THE SWAMP. 369

few horses tliat had been left in the wood, near at
hand. Part of the tents were set fire to by the
owners, before they left, to prevent them from falling
into the hands of the foe ; but a few were saved, and
these, also, the party took charge of. They then set
out for their own encampment, with the spoils, and
arrived there without further incident.

A good night's work had Marion and his men per-
formed; and the men looked with some degree of
satisfaction upon the spoils, as they were heaped up
in the open space around the fire. Marion, himself,
seemed somewhat elated with the success of the en-
terprise; and a smile glowed upon his sunburnt
features, as he looked upon the fruits of their activity,
and thought how the news of his success would cha-
grin the British commander who had sent the detach-
ment in pursuit of him. Among the spoils, was a
quantity of wine, that had belonged to the British
officers, and some brandy that was intended for the
soldiers. These two much-relished beverages were
distributed among the officers and men of the band,
in goodly portions, and it was determined to pass the
remainder of the night as merry as possible. The
provisions were stowed away till a more pressing
occasion. The rest of the spoils were put away until
the next day. When the liquor had been distributed,
and each man had his portion safely in his cup or
jug, or whatever receptacle he was possessed of, the

Y

370 THE CAMP-FIRE

party scattered about the area again. Our group, —
consisting, as before, of the sergeant, Green, Moran,
and another, — seated themselves upon the ground.

^^'Now, boys," said the sergeant, holding a small
mug in his hand, which he had made sure of in the
general capture, " we 've somethin' to put a little life
in us ; though it 's not exactly the thing Scotch whis-
key would be for me."

" It 's the very thing for me," replied Green, " I
w^ish there was more of it."

" Out, man ; do you want to get drunk ? You 've
enough there in that cup of yours to make you a
little flighty, anyhow. But hold on a bit; I've got
a toast for you to drink."

"Well, out with it, sergeant; for I'm in a hurry
to get a drink," said Moran.

The four raised their mugs a little, and Macdonald
said : " Here 's to General Marion. May the hunters
of the Swamp-Fox always meet with the same recep-
tion as they got to-night 1"

The men swallowed the toast in a long swig of the
liquor ; and as they reluctantly withdrew the mugs
from their mouths, each smacked his lips in satisfac-
tion.

" That's what I call a good toast well drank," said
Green, looking in his cup longingly, upon the re-
mainder of his portion.

"Yes," returned the sergeant, "the subject of the

IN THE SWAMP 371

toast makes it a good one. This niglit's work was as
neat a planned thing as I 've heard of yet ; and the
General must have the credit of it all. He puts a
little of his own spirit into the men at such a time 5
— but, Green, sing us that song of yours, about the
Swamp-Fox. It 's a good thing, wherever you got it
from, and I like to hear it."

Green was anxious to sing. The liquor he had
drank had put him in that state when the spirits
must break out into singing, or dancing, or talking ;
so he did not make the looked-for and customary
apologies, but jumped at the request.

"Certainly, sergeant, certainly. I'll do anything
towards amusin' the rest of the company. I ain't
backward." So saying, he sang the following song, in
a slightly tremulous voice, but tolerably loud. The
sound of his voice attracted the attention of some of
the other men who were sitting within hearing, and
they gathered near to listen.

THE SWAMP-FOX.

"We follow where the Swamp-Fox guides,

His friends and merry men are we;
And when the troop of Tarleton rides,

We burrow in the cypress tree.
The turfy tussock ia our bed,

Our home Ls in the red-doer's den,
Our roof, the tree-tup overhead,

For we are wild and hunted men.

372 THE CAMP-FIRE

We fly by day, and shun its light;

But; prompt to strike the sudden blow,
We mount, and start with early night,

And through the forest track our foe.
And soon he hears our chargers leap,

The flashing sabre blinds his eyes.
And ere he drives away his sleep,

And rushes from his camp, he dies.

Free bridle-bit, good gallant steed,

That will not ask a kind caress.
To swim the Santee at our need.

When on his heels the foemen press—
The true heart and the ready hand.

The spirit stubborn to be free —
The twisted bore, the smiting brand —

And we are Marion's men you see.

Now light the fire, and cook the meal,

The last, perhaps, that we shall taste ;
I hear the Swamp-Fox round us steal,

And that's a sign we move in haste.
He whistles to the scouts, and, hark!

You hear his order calm and low —
Come, wave your torch across the dark.

And let us see the boys that go.

We may not see their forms again,
God help 'em should they find the strife^

For they are strong and fearless men.
And make no coward terms for life :

They'll fight as long as Marion bids,
And when he speaks the word to shy,

IN THE SWAMP. 373

Then — not till then — they turn their steeds,
Through thickening shade and swamp to fly.

Now stir the fire, and lie at ease,

The scouts are gone, and on the brush
I see the colonel bend his knees,

To take his slumbers, too — but, hush!
He's praying, comrades: 'tis not strange;

The man that's fighting day by day.
May well, when night comes, take a change,

And down upon his knees to pray.

Break up that hoecake, boys, and hand

The sly and silent jug that's there;
I love not it should idle stand

When Marion's men have need of cheer.
'Tis seldom that our luck afibrds

A stuff like this we just have quaff'd,
And dry potatoes on our boards

May always call for such a draught.

Now pile the brush and roll the log :

Hard pillow, but a soldier's head.
That's half the time in brake and bog,

Must never think of softer bed.
The owl is hooting to the night.

The cooter crawling o'er the bank.
And in that pond the plashing light

Tells where the alligator sank.

What — 'tis the signal! start so soon.
And through the Santce swamp so deep,

Without the aid of friendly moon,
And wc, heaven help us, half asleep 1

82

374 THE CAMP-FIRE

But courage, comrades, Marion leads,
The Swamp-Fox takes us out to-night;

So clear your swords, and coax your steeds,
There 's goodly chance, I think, of fight.

We follow where the Swamp-Fox guides,

We leave the swamp and cypress tree,
Our spui's are in our coursers* sides,

And ready for the strife are we.
The tory camp is now in sight,

And there he cowers within his den ;
He hears our shout, he dreads the fight,

He fears, and flies from Marion^s men.

" Good," said the sergeant, when Green had con-
cluded the song. "I like that song better every time
I hear it. Green, you sing it well."

" Much obliged, sergeant, for the compliment," re-
plied Green ; '^ but neither the music nor the singin'
of it is as good as the words."

^^ No," said Moran. "The words tell exactly the
life we lead here in the swamp. At one time we 're
hunted by the red-coats as if we were wild beasts ;
at another, we hunt them. The only difference is,
we bring down our game a great deal oftener than
they do."

" That 's a fact," returned the sergeant ; " and now
let 's drink another toast, and that 11 finish the liquor.
Here's to the health of the red-coats. May they
soon learn that the right way to keep it is to go back

IN THE SWAxMP. 375

to their own land, and leave us to take care of our-
selves."

This toast was received with a cordial ^* Ha, ha !"
bj the men around the sergeant, and drank with a
great deal of animation.

" Now, sergeant," said Green, beginning to feel a
little ' elevated,' " tell us some sort of a yarn, to fill
out the time till mornin', and then we '11 go to bed
with the owls."

" Yes," added Moran, " anything at all ; w^e ain't
hard to please."

" Well," replied the sergeant, thus appealed to, " 1
do n't think you are hard to please, Moran, since you
got that brandy. I expect you feel like laughin' at
anything just now. I'll tell you one of Marion's
capers, that you have n't heard of, perhaps."

" How did you hear of it, sergeant ?" asked Green.

" Me hear it ? I was on the spot, and saw it," an-
swered Macdonald.

" Oh !" ejaculated Green, as if satisfied of the truth
of the story.

" You see, men, it was about three or four months
ago, I think, — for I hardly know how the time goes,
— the General was pretty hard pushed for ammuni-
tion. We had been tryin' to get some, everyhow we
could think of, but could n't do it ; because, you see,
the British had our little party penned up close in
the swamp. We had only about fifty men in all.

37G THE CAMP-FIRE

Tarleton and his troop were huntin' round, and they
had a large force of infantry in the neighborhood.
Well, so me thin' had to be done ; for to be idle was n't
in the make of Marion. The only way we could get
any ammunition to supply our wants, was to attack
the convoy that brought the stores to the British in
the neighborhood. These convoys sometimes num-
bered a hundred men each ; but often more than that.
Besides, they were well provided, in every respect,
for an attack. Well, Marion resolved to attack one
of these convoys ; and he laid his plan for it with
the greatest care. The principal things to be done
were these : — A party of our men, numberin' only
five, — that was all we could spare, — was to take a
route through the woods, just opposite to the one the
whole band were goin', and they were to lurk around
the large detachment of infantry in that direction,
and once and a while show themselves, to make the
British think the whole of our band were in that
neighborhood; and then the commander of the de-
tachment would give the commander at the station
where the convoy come from, notice of the fact, and
thus throw 'em off their guard. Then, on the night
of the attack, the whole of the rest of the band were
to march to a place which he mentioned, where there
was a good chance for hidin', and a better one for an
attack. It was a place where the road, along which
the convoy was expected to come, passed through a

IN THE SWAMP. 377

wood, where the ground was very much overgrown
with bushes, at the bottom of a very shallow ravine.
The road just there made a short turn ; so that when
we were stationed on each side of it, just before the
bend, we could let the advance of the party get
around before we 'd attack the convoy ; and then the
stores might be secured very speedily. We had only
three rounds of ammunition for each man, when we
heard of an expected convoy of stores. These we
had treasured for some time, waitin' our chance.
The party of five were sent on their duty ; and, as
they sent us word by one of their number, they done
the business just as we expected ; the British thinkin'
our whole party was in the neighborhood certain, and
sendin' word to that amount to the commander at the
station where the convoy was to come from. We
were on the ground Marion had fixed upon, before
night, when the convoy was expected to pass. Every-
thing turned out as we wanted it. The convoy got
to the pass as it grew fairly dark. We were at our
posts, on horseback, in the wood on each side of the
road. Marion was in command of tlie party on the
right of the road, who were to secure the stores, and
take them through the wood, in that direction. I
was with the party on the other side, and we were to
attack the body of soldiers in the rear of the stores.
On come the convoy, with their torches and lanterns
lightin the way, never thinkin' anybody was goin' to
32='^

378 THE CAMP-FIRE

trouble 'em. The advance got fairly round the bend
in the road, and the wagons in which were the stores
were right opposite to us, when the word was given
to our party to fire and rush on the rear-guard ; and
we poured a volley into them that staggered 'em at
once. Then we come down on 'em, from the sides of
the road, like all creation ; hootin' and shoutin' at the
loudest. At the same time, the party under Marion
came down, from the other side of the road, upon the
wagons with the stores ; and while we were slashin
away at the rear-guard, a part of Marion's men were
securin' the stores, and draggin' 'em off into the wood
as fast as possible. Such a yellin' as we kept up all
the time, you can't think of. To-night's business had
a good deal of that, but it was n't anything like the
other. Part of the horsemen in the rear stood their
ground, but the rest made off back the way they
came. The advance got themselves turned around
by the time most of the stores had been secured by
the men of Marion's party, and sent to our place of
meetin', in the swamp, as fast as ten men could carry
and drag 'em. The rest of his party came to our
rescue, and helped to beat down the rest of the rear-
guard. But there was no time to lose ; we could n't
stop to take prisoners. The advance was comin' back
upon us ; but the wagons were in their road, and they
couldn't get at us without great danger to themselves.
The order was given, and we poured our last volley

IN THE SWAMP. 379

into 'em, and then took to the wood. Marion was
nearly the last man on the ground ; but he had the
best horse. He gave a shout, and fired his pistol into
the foremost horseman's breast, and followed his men
into the wood just in time to save himself from the
sabres of the rest of them. I was behind him, and
saw him do it ; and then we rode through the wood
nearly side by side. We had to move quick through
that wood, I tell you. We had to cross another road
before we got into the swamp, and Marion had strong
fears of bein' attacked there. The body of horsemen
we had left behind us would not dare to follow us at
night, through the wood. They had had a taste of a
surprise; besides, they had plenty of wounded to
take care of, I know. My sabre done a pretty deal
of work, and I know the rest of the boys were n't be-
hind me in it. We had three wounded, but none
killed; and these wounded we brought away with us.
We passed the crossin' safely, but hurried on as fast
as the carriage of the stores would let us, till we got
far into the swamp, and then we slackened our pace.
The men were almost worn out with the hard ride,
and carrying the wounded and the spoil of our attack,
by the time we reached our camp. We had captured
a great deal of ammunition and provisions, and they
served us for some time ahead ; I think it was about
a month. Our decoy party had arrived some time
before us. But mind, we had to keep close for a

380 THE CAMP-FIHE

week or so after that surprise. The British detach-
ment were awful wrothy about losin' their provisions
and ammunition, and the next convoy had double the
number of troops with it that the other one had. I
can't help thinkin' how dashed the red-coat troops
must have felt, ridin' into the British camp with their
empty wagons."

As the sergeant paused, he looked up, expecting to
hear the remarks of his companions on the gallant
exploit he had just narrated. Green was fast asleep^
and the two others had sunk into a state of listless-
ness, which was the precursor of sleep.

" Why, blast ye !" exclaimed the sergeant, pushing
Moran with his rough hand, " you have n't been lis-
tenin' to my story, after askin' for it j but ye shall
pay for it, I tell ye."

So saying, the sergeant yawned, and, stretching
himself on the ground, he pulled a small log towards
him, for a pillow, and, thus prepared, gave himself to
sleep.

The fire had almost burned down ; the men were
sleeping in various positions, all over the ground near
the fire, and some on the large logs close at hand.
Marion's short, slender form, and sunburnt face, might
there be seen, stretched quietly by a log, with a
piece of the canvass of a tent for a pillow. Never
did a soldier, with as hard a bed, sleep as calmly and
soundly as he was sleeping. There, far in the swamp

IN THE SWAMP.

381

that formed their fortress, the little band that so suc-
cessfully and so gallantly upheld the independence
of their country, were sleeping, fearless of attack;
and there, with the lap of their mother earth for a
bed, their guardian heaven for a roof, and the stars
to light their way through the land of dreams, we
leave the hardy band to realize

"How sweet the hour that brings release
From danger and from toil !"

Geoeral Marion snterUining a British uffic«r at hia camp in the Swamp.

General Henry Lee.

THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEB.

After the battle of Eutaw Springs, so glorious for
the American arms, the army retired to a position
they had formerly occupied, on the high hills of San-
tee. That battle may be considered as the close of
the war in South Carolina — that being the last gen-
eral engagement of the two opposing armies. The
American troops were in high spirits, for they had
accomplished a great deal in that single campaign of
1781. They opened the campaign with the gloomiest
prospects. The whole State of South Carolina was
in possession of the British army, and the Americans
had scarcely the means of taking the field to oppose
them. Yet this wretchedly-provided army, under
the conduct of the military genius of Greene, had, at
the close of the campaign, reduced the possessions of
the British to the near neighborhood of Charleston.
This was, indeed, enough to put the Americans in
high spirits. Supplies for their camp were now abun-
dant ; for the crops which the British had planted,
with the expectation of reaping the harvest for their

C382)

CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 383

own benefit, fell into the hands of the victorious
Americans, and gave them a seasonable relief.

The time of the encampment of the American
army on the high hills of Santee, was the latter part
of August and September, of the year 1781. The
principal actions of the campaign had taken place in
the heat of a southern summer; and the weather
was still very warm when Greene returned to his
position on the Santee. The camp, as w^e have said,
was filled wath supplies, and every opportunity was
offered for the troops to enjoy a rest after their toils.

The evening was a calm and beautiful one. The
red glow upon the horizon, that marked where the
glorious sun had bid the scene farewell, was fast mel-
lowing into a violet hue. The crescent moon w^as
softly beaming from the cloudless sky, and, one by
one, her assisting stars twinkled into view. A silence,
broken only by the noise native to the field and w^ood,
was gathering over the scene. The white tents made
the encampment look like a close-stoned graveyard,
in the evening light. The men were generally in
their tents ; but sleep could not visit their senses so
early. In one of them, four men were lying upon
the ground that formed the floor of the tent, as near
the opening as they could get. The front of the tent
looked out upon the country upon the hills, a scene
which they regarded with an interest w^hich argued a
strong feeling of the beautiful, in the men. They

384 THE CAMP-FIRE

were waiting for one of their number, who made up
the mess of the tent. He had left the camp, in the
afternoon, for a short excursion into the country, and
had not yet returned. Their evening meal was al-
ready prepared upon the fire in the tent, but the men
had concluded to wait for their comrade, both for the
sake of his company, — for he was the liveliest one
of the mess, — and that he might not want company
himself. They waited patiently till it began to grow
dark, when one of them remarked : —

"I wish Harry 'd make a little haste, if he is
^.omin' ; I 'm beginnin' to feel a little like puttin'
away some fodder."

"Oh, Bill, we can afibrd to wait a little longer.
His company generally makes the food taste as good
again," said another of the men. " There 's no dull-
ness while he's about. I've been in service the
whole campaign ; and I never come across a fellow
like him in camp, yet."

" He 's a first-rate chap," replied Bill, " but fodder 's
a good deal better for a hungry stomach than his
company, I 'm thinkin'."

" Here he comes !" exclaimed the individual nearest
the entrance. " He 's just turnin' the corner of the
wood."

" Ha, ha ! boys," said Harry, " you 've eaten up all
the victuals, I suppose, by this time. I'm awful
ravenous, after the tramp I 've had."

ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 385

"No, indeed/' replied Bill; "we've been waitin'
for you till I 'm almost hungry enough to eat you up.
Come on now ; will you ?"

As Harry arrived at the tent, the men arose, and
set about fixing the fire so as to make a light in the
tent, to enable them to ' find the way to their mouths,'
— though, in their present hungry state, that would
not have been a difficult operation, — and also divided
the provisions they had been cooking.

"Well, boys," said Harry, "I Ve been wanderin'
through the country, up here, to see what it 's like.
I tell you, there 's some pretty scenery around these
parts."

" I know it," said Bill. " I saw it when we were
camped here before."

" For my part," observed Harry, " I 'd sooner look
at beautiful scenery than eat."

"Ah !" said Bill, disposing of his victuals at a won-
derful rate, " you romantic young men are apt to let
yourselves be carried away from the substantial busi-
ness of life. Now, for my part, I 'd sooner eat a
dinner of my old mother s cooking, than look at all
the pretty scenery in creation. There 's nothin' like
eatin'."

" Except it is drinking," added John ; another of
the men.

"Ye3, that's well put in," replied Bill. "Good
eatin' and drinkin' is a pair of things I fell iu love
33 z

38G THE CAMP-FIRE

with just after I was born, and the likin' still sticks
to me."

" If you fellows keep on, you '11 get me to quoting
poetry," said Harry, who was, from his conversation,
evidently a man of some education.

"Oh, don't," replied Bill. "Of all things, I hate
poetry. I like to hear things said in a plain, com-
mon-sense way, and not tuned to music. Such things
are foolish."

"Well, Bill," said Harry, "you are about the
dullest customer I Ve ever had to deal with. What 's
a man fit for, that don't like pretty scenery and
poetry? Nothing but ^treasons, stratagems, and
spoils,' as Shakspeare says."

" Oh, drat the poetry, and the Shakspeare, and all
that. Tell us somethin' worth hearin'. Somethin'
that you 've seen this campaign, if you 've got nothin'
else," said Bill.

" Yes," said John ; " somethin' about this campaign.
You've been in it all through, and you must have
seen somethin' worth tellin'."

"Well, boys," replied Harry, as he put his last
piece in his mouth, "I think I can tell you about
things that I've seen this campaign, that'll amuse
you for awhile. Let me see. You joined the army
just before the last battle, I believe ?"

"John and I did," replied Bill; "but Joe, over
there, has been in service the whole campaign, like

ON THE HILLS OF SAXTEE. 387

yourself. Bob, here, joined, he says, after the battle
at the Court-House."

» " Well, Joe can keep himself still, while I tell you
three all about the different affairs that have come
under my observance. If I get too prosy and dull in
my narrative, you must stop me. To begin, then.
Guilford Court-House was the first place I ever saw a
battle. You may have heard that, just before that
battle, Greene was reinforced by two brigades of
militia from North Carolina, and one from Virginia,
and about four hundred regulars, raised for eighteen
months. It w^as with these regulars that I joined the
army. Before we arrived, Greene was desirous of
avoiding a battle with Cornwallis, — being in no way
equal to him in force ; but after our arrival, he con-
cluded that our army was strong enough to risk a
battle with the enemy. We were four thousand four
hundred strong; but the largest part were militia.
Cornwallis had with him about two thousand four
hundred men ; and they were chiefly troops who had
seen many a victorious field. Our troops were drawn
up in three lines. The front was composed of North
Carolina militia; the second, of Virginia militia;
and the last, of continental troops, commanded by
General linger and Colonel Williams. The battle
was opened by a brisk cannonade, in front of the
British army ; and then they advanced in three col-
umns. The Hessians were on the right, the Guards

388 THE CAMP-FJKE

in the centre, and Colonel Webster's brigade on the
left. They attacked our front line, which, as I told
you, consisted of North Carolina militia; but when
they were nearly a hundred and fifty yards off, the
militia gave way. The reason was, they were un-
trained troops; and the colonel of one of the regi-
ments cried out to another officer, at some distance,
that ^he would be surrounded.' Now you might
guess what effect such an announcement would have
upon raw troops. They did n't stop to inquire whe-
ther it was true or not. That shows the use of hav-
ing good officers, and how much depends upon them.
The Virginia militia were the next to meet the ad-
vance of the enemy; and they stood their ground,
and kept up their fire, till they were ordered to re-
treat. That was on account of their having a good
and brave commander. General Stevens was the
man. He posted forty riflemen, at equal distances,
twenty paces in the rear of his brigade, with orders
to shoot every man who should leave his post ; and
although he was w^ounded in the thigh, he set his
men the example, by keeping his place. When the
Virginia militia retreated, our turn came. I suppose
you know how a man feels when he first goes into
battle. In my case, the cause for anxiety was much
greater than it generally is. I knew that everything
depended upon the regular troops, and that we would
have the principal shock of the battle to bear. Then,

ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 389

of course, we would have some hard fighting. At
first, when I heard the roar of the musketry and
cannon, and saw the wounded of the Virginia militia
borne past us, I thought that, perhaps, that would be
my fate ; and I thought, also, of home and the friends
I had left behind me; particularly one very near
friend, that I knew was looking with anxiety for my
return. But then, as the time for us to engage ap-
proached, I thought of the tyranny of the enemy we
were fighting against, and that I stood there as the
defender of my home and fireside from oppression ;
and by the time the order was given for us to engage,
every fear of consequence was banished from my
mind. I went ahead, heart and soul, intent on doino-
as much mischief as I could. We fought for an liour
and a half, in the most obstinate and bloody manner.
The veteran troops of the British came on with the
force and steadiness they had displayed on many
former occasions ; and our half-trained regulars met
them as if they, too, were veterans. The bravery
our troops displayed in that contest of an hour and a
half, could not have been surpassed ; but discipline
triumphed. The enemy broke the second Maryland
brigade, turned our left flank, and got in the rear of
the Virginia brigade. They even appeared to be
gaining on our right, when they would have sur-
rounded us; and the General therefore ordered a
retreat. We retreated about three miles, and then
33='=

390 THE CAMP-FIRE

drew up again, expecting the British to follow up
their success ; but they had been too much galled for
that. The victory, as they called it, beat them so
badly that they dared not follow us ; and when we
had collected our stragglers, we retreated to Speed-
w^ell's Iron- Works, about ten miles from Guilford. I
was n't hurt any ; but you must n't infer that I did n't
do much fighting. I stood my ground, and blazed
away while the men were falling all around me ; and
I learned to look death in the face pretty steadily
that day. However, I was n't sorry when the battle
was over. We had reaped every advantage from the
encounter but the bare possession of the field. They
had lost six hundred and sixty-three, in killed and
wounded, without the officers; and we had about
four hundred killed and wounded. They were com-
pelled to retreat from Guilford, soon after the battle,
and to leave the wounded they had captured, and
seventy-five of their own, in the same condition. We
were ready for another battle, as soon as we retired
to Keedy Fork; but they wouldn't attempt such a
thing."

" When I went to school," interrupted Bill, " I used
to read, in a Koman history we had, about a general
that brought a large army into the country of the
Romans ; and, in a battle that they fought with the
Romans, they were victorious ; but, when the battle
was over, the general of the army invading the coun-

ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 391

try of the Komans, said : — ' Another such a victory,
and I am undone.' I guess the British commander
might have said the same thing, after that battle
you 're speakin' about."

"Very true, Bill. The general you mean was
named Pyrrhus," replied Harry.

"Yes," said Bill.

" The loss of the battle — that is, the field — was
blamed upon the North Carolina militia ; was n't it ?"
asked John.

" Yes," replied Harry, '^ and with very good reason ;
they might have given the enemy a severe check, if
they had stood their ground. Then, with our regular
troops to second them, the victory would have been
certain. As it was, the fate of the day was for a
long time doubtful."

" Well," put in Joe, " go on vrith the narrative ;
will you ?"

"All in the proper time," said Harry. " You know
that, soon after the battle of Guilford Court-House,
Greene marched into South CaroHna, which he said
he would recover, or die in the attempt."

"Yes; we've heard of the noble resolution of
Greene," said Bill ; " Joe was tellin' us about that."

" Well," continued Harry, " the main body of the
army marched against Camden, while Colonel Lee
jnarched to join Marion, on this river here, the
Santee, to lay siege to Fort Watson, between Camden

392 THE CAMP-FIRE

and Charleston. I was with the main army, and
therefore I can't tell you any more about the surren-
der of Fort Watson than you know already. We
encamped before Camden. It 's a small village, situ-
ated on a plain, covered on the south and east sides
by the Wateree and a creek, and was defended on the
northern and western sides by six redoubts. The
British force there numbered about nine hundred
men ; and they were commanded by Lord Rawdon, —
a brave and prudent man, be it said. Our army con-
sisted of about nine hundred continentals, and two
or three hundred militia. The General, of course,
wouldn't attempt to take such a post as that by
storm, or even think of investing it, with such a force
as we had. So, he took post about a mile from Cam-
den, and waited to see if the garrison would come out
of their lines. We were n't disappointed. The
whole British force, under the command of Lord
Eawdon, came out to meet us ; and from the arrange-
ments we had made, we thought victory was certain.
We encountered the British on their advance, and
drove them before us, after a short conflict. While
they were retreating, pursued by some of our troops,
from some mistake or other. Colonel Gurley, who
commanded the first Maryland regiment, ordered
them to retire. That order caused our defeat; for
the enemy rallied at once, on seeing the Maryland
troops retire, and returned to the charge with such

ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 398

impetuosityj that we were forced to retire ; but we
did it in such order, that we brought off most of our
wounded, all our artillery, and a number of prisoners
we had taken. So you see the enemy didn't get
anything by our retreat, except the honor of defeating
us. That was a great deal, however, to General
Greene. He thought the victory certain; and he
had taken measures to cut off the enemy's retreat.
It was a bitter disappointment, I tell you, just when
we thought we had beaten the enemy, to be defeated
by a mistake of an officer. But Camden seemed to
be an unlucky place for us. Everything we at-
tempted near there failed ; — not from any want of
bravery or generalship, but from some cause impos-
sible to be foreseen. The British lost about one-third
of their whole force, in killed and wounded, and we
lost about one-fourth. They retired to Camden, after
our retreat ; but Greene had taken such measures to
cut off their supplies, that although they received a
reinforcement of four or five hundred men, they soon
evacuated Camden, and we attained the object of the
previous battle. That was a specimen of Greene's
generalship. .He was just as active after a defeat as
before the battle, and nothing could dishearten him."
" That was the whole secret of his success in tlie
campaign," said Bill. "He gained his object some-
times while sufferin' from a defeat on the field of
battle."

394 THE CAilP-FIRE

^' But you were tellin us how you felt on goin' into
your first battle/' said Bob ; " how did you get along
in this one ?"

" Oh, boy, a man never has such feelings a second
time/' replied Harry. " I felt like a veteran. When
I heard the roar of the artillery, and mixed in the
battle, it seemed like a famihar scene to me. The
bullets whistled around my ears, and it seemed like
music I had heard before ; and then the charge with
the bayonet, when the enemy began to give way ; —
I rushed upon them with as hearty a will as I ever
did anything."

" Yes ; and I suppose when they rallied and turned
on you, you left in the same manner," said Bill.

" That 's an insinuation, Bill. Of course, I was n't
sorry to get away with whole bones ; but I expected
to see the red-coats whipped, and did n't feel much
like leaving the ground to them."

"Well," said Joe, anxious to keep Harry to the
point, "go on with your story, or you won't get
through before it 's very late."

" Well, I left off after the battle before Camden.
I '11 tell you about an incident that occurred while we
were encamped near that place. After the battle,
desertions of the army were increasing to an alarming
extent ; and the General resolved to put an end to
them, by putting to death any one who should Dl
guilty of desertion, and afterwards taken. This re-

ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 395

solve was communicated to the army ; but it appears
that some of the men either weren't aware of the
firmness with which General Greene executed his
resolutions, or else the temptations to desert were too
strong. However it was, the communication of the
General's resolution didn't have much effect. The
men continued to desert the same as before. Greene
gave orders for their capture wherever they could be
found ; and, accordingly, eight men were taken soon
after their desertion, and the unbending Greene con-
demned them to be hung on one day. The army
was ordered out to witness the execution, and the
appointed day arrived. I shall never forget the scene
presented to us, when the condemned men were al-
lowed to take leave of their wives and children, be-
fore suffering the rigorous penalty of the crime they
had committed. I call it a crime, because it appears
to me to deserve that name. To desert a small army
like ours, fighting for their homes, in our time of
need, after a bloody battle, when we were reduced by
the loss in killed and wounded, seems to me to be
worthy of being called criminal. The children were
clinging to the parent they were about to lose, and
the women were not to be consoled, as they hung
round the necks of their husbands. I could scarcely
bear it myself; but the General, you know, is a man
that doesn't often waver from his clear line of duty
because his feelings are excited. You may have

396 THE CAMP-FIRE

heard that, when Andre was undergoing his trial for
heing a spy, he asked that his punishment by hanging
should be commuted to that of being shot; for he
wanted to die like a soldier. All the officers were
anxious to grant his request but Greene. He said
that Andre was either a spy or an innocent man. If
he was a spy, the laws of war prescribed the penalty ;
if he was an innocent man, all punishment of him
was unjust; and Greene's opinion prevailed. This
showed the General's unbending firmness in the exe-
cution of the clear line of duty. But I w^ander away
from my story a little too much. The General could
not be moved by any such scene. One by one, the
men mounted the scaffold which had been erected,
and were launched into eternity. I could only look
at the first two. I could look calmly on, and see men
slain in fighting with their foes in a fair field ; then
they died as I would wish to die myself But to see
men walk up to meet their death like dogs, by the
rope, was more than agreed with my nature. I waited
anxiously till the last body was cut down, and never
felt so relieved in my life, as when we received the
order to move from our position.

" Ah !" said Bill, " I ve seen some of that kind of
work done myself I know pretty near what your
feelin's were like."

"What our nature revolts at so much, must be
wrong," said Harry, argumentatively. "Whatever

ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 397

the laws of war may be, it seems to me, that putting
a man to death because he deserts, is a very foolish
thing. Desertion is a crime, in some cases, as I said
before ; but putting the man to death does n't make
him a good soldier. They say, that uphold this pun-
ishment, that its object is to prevent the commission
of the crime ; and that a punishment not extending
to the taking of life would n't have that effect ; but I
do n't believe it. I 'd like to see it have as much of
a trial as the other punishment. Then we could tell
a little truer about it."

" You talk very fine," rej)lied Bill. '^ I do n't un-
derstand the why and wherefore of what you 've been
sayin', but it looks as if it would stand to reason.
"VYe ought to have a trial of other kinds of punish-
ment, before we say that none other will do."

" I think a man ought to be hung that deserts his
own colors," observed Bob. " No man worth livin
will do it. He never would do any good if he was
to be let off. It 's a chance if some of the men that
deserted didn't go and join the red-coats that's
fightin' against their countrymen ; and such men as
would do that ought to be strung up without a
jury."

" You say he '11 never do any good if he was let

off," returned Harry. "How do you know that?

He might become a good man, and do a thousand

good actions, to make reparation for that one bad one.

34

398 CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE.

Men that have done the worst of actions have re-
pented, and have done the best."

" Oh;, go on with your story/' said Joe, who hated
arguments.

^^ No ; I guess we '11 postpone the rest of the narra-
tive till to-morrow night/' said Harry ; who, no doubt,
had got to thinking on the subject of the death-pen-
alty, and did not feel in the humor of any more story-
telling that night.

" Well," said Bill, " I 'm willin' to go to sleep now.
I 've been winkin' some time. But do n't forget where
you left off in the story, Harry."

The fire on which the evening meal was prepared
had been left to die out, and the men closed the
opening in the tent, and wrapped themselves in their
blankets. Two or three times, Bill interrupted the
gathering silence by some question propounded to
Harry ; but Harry seemed moody, and returned very
short answers. Bill, therefore, soon got tired of ques-
tioning, and the whole party were soon wrapped in
slumber.

Battle Ground of Yorktown.

THE CAMP-FIRE NEAR CnARLESTON

January, 1783, saw the army of the South, under
General Greene, who had so successfully conducted it
through the previous campaign, encamped in the
neighborhood of Charleston, South Carolina. The
army had sufiered greatly from the want of provi-
sions, ammunition, and all the necessary equipage of
a camp. The' reason of this was, not the want of
supplies in the magazines, but the difficulty of trans-
portation. On the 4th of January preceding, a rein-
forcement arrived, detached from the main army at
Yorktown, after the surrender of Cornwallis. The
men were in high spirits, on account of the triumph
they had achieved, and the prospect it opened of their

(390)

400 THE CAMP-FIRE

speedy return to their homes, and the enjoyment of
peace. The men composing the reinforcement were
well received bv their brethren in arms, to whom the
details of the events which had brought about the
surrender were most interesting. The watch-fires of
the camp never blazed in the midst of groups of men
more buoyant in spirits than those which were assem-
bled around them in Greene's camp, after the arrival
of the troops from Yorktown. Nearly all looked
upon the capture of Lord Cornwallis as the termina-
tion of hostilities, and to them

" Grim-visaged War had smoothed his wrinkled front."

The night was dark and chilly — the severest win-
ter nights of South Carolina are not much more.
The warmth of the fires was in demand among the
troops, and they were well heaped with their neces-
sary food. Each had its group of five, or more, and
talking and singing filled the hours before the time
of seeking repose. Some of the messes were so lucky
as to secure visitors from the detachment just arrived
from Yorktown, and they took care to make the most
of them. To one of this fortunate description we
will direct our attention. It was a group of six men,
sitting on some small logs they had drawn near the
fire. The clothing of most of them was much soiled
and worn, and their general appearance of face and
feature might be classed in the same description.

NEAR CHARLESTON". 401

The one who honored the mess with a visit could
readily be distinguished from the rest by a slight
difference in the appearance of his clothing, and the
general respect which was paid to him by the rest of
the men. They were all attention when he spoke ;
though there was a cordiality about his manner which
would seem capable of banishing all formality. Ilis
name was Barton, and he had been introduced and
welcomed to the men through the instrumentality of
an old comrade of his, by the name of Crisp. Dick
Crisp and he had gone through most of the promi-
nent battles of the early part of the war, in the same
company. But when General Greene took command
of the southern army, Crisp's term of service was
out ; and his family moving to South Carolina, soon
after, he concluded to join his force. He served with
Greene through his arduous but triumj)hant cam-
paign, and now, near the close of the war, had the

*

pleasure of meeting his old comrade, Sam Barton.

^^ Ha, ha !" laughed Dick. " You do n't remember
all the sport we used to have up there, in old Jersey
and New York, along with all our troubles."

" Oh, yes," replied Sam, " I '11 never forget some of
our doings, even though I do n't see any of my old
comrades any more. Dick, I believe you 're the only
one left out of all the party of fellows we used to
know when you were in our company."

*^ I am !" said Dick, in surprise. " Why, what 'b
34=5= •2 a

402 THE CAMP-FIRE

become of Bob Jones ? — Long Bob, we used to call
liim, you know."

'' Oh, he fell at Stony Point," answered Sam. " He
was one of the forlorn hope. Poor fellow ! 'He and
I 've seen some great times together."

"Then there was Harry Henkins," said Dick.
"He was a whole-souled fellow. He tended me,
when I was sick, just like a brother."

" Yes, there was no mistake about Harry's heart
being in the right place," said Sam. " He got sick,
and when his term of service was out, he left the
army, and I've never seen him since. I think he
must have either remained sick to this day, or else
have died; for I often heard him say his country
should have his arm as long as he was able to shoulder
a musket."

" Then there was John Higgins," said Dick, mus-
ingly. " He 's not dead, too \ is he ?"

"Yes; poor John fell at Yorktown, after going
through the best part of the war," replied Sam. " I
saw him fall. It was just as we were entering a re-
doubt we had captured. The last fire of the red-coats
killed him."

" That was hard," said Dick, " after going through
80 many hard-fought battles."

" Come, come, men, do n't have all the talk to your-
selves," remarked another of the group, by the name
of Battler. " We would like to hear something about

55
O
H

o

12;

O

NEAR CHARLESTON. 403

Yorktown. Can't you oblige us, Barton, with a few
of the particulars of the surrender ?"

" Oh, yes, I can tell you something about it -, though
there was nothing of any consequence done there,
except the surrender of Lord Cornwallis."

" Oh, do n't tell us that," returned Rattler. " Lord
Cornwallis is not the man to surrender without some
fighting. Give us some account of it, anyhow."

" I '11 tell you what I '11 do," replied Barton. " 1 11
tell you about Yorktown, as far as I saw, and then
one of you must agree to tell me about something
that's been going on down here. There's a good
many things that you can tell me, that I want to
know all about. There's Eutaw Springs, and the
Cowpens, and Camden. Any of them I '11 be glad to
hear about."

" Bill, here," said Rattler, " was at the Cowpens.
I suppose he '11 be willing to tell you."

"Certainly," replied Bill, "if he tells us about
Yorktown."

"Let's have a song from Rattler, first, though,"
said Dick. " He can sing about as well as anybody I
know, and he knows some real stirring songs."

"Good," said Sam Barton. "I won't tell about
Yorktown till Rattler does sing."

" Oh, I do n't want any coaxing," was the reply.
" ' Silver and gold have I none ; but such as I have
I give unto you.' I don't think I can sing some of

±04 THE CAMP-FIRE

the songs I know, but you 're welcome to it, such as
it is."

" Never mind apologies or quoting Scripture, but
just drive on. We all want to hear the song," said
Dick.

" The song I 'm going to sing," said Kattler, is one
of the real grit. It has a chorus that runs this way,
— and Kattler hummed over the chorus of the song
that follows. "You must all join in ; but do n't sing
too loud, or you'll have the sergeant down on us.
It is called the ' Song of the Revolution.' " The men
nodded assent, and Eattler proceeded with his song,
in a tolerably clear and sweet voice : —

Come, freemen, rally,

Your banners fling out,
Till the mountain's top

Gives back your sbout.
The trumpet is sounding
O'er valley and glen;
The sword is unsheath'd
For the murder of men !
Death to the tory,

Torture and shame !
Death to the tory,
Fagot and flame!

King George has declared

That we shall not be free,
His vengeance is roused

For the waste of his teal

NEAR CHARLESTON. 405

His troops throng our cities,

His vessels our portS;
And waves his proud flag

From the tops of our forts I
Death to the torj, &c.

All blithe is King George
As he sitteth on high,

And the words which he utters
Are, "Worship or die!"

And gayly he sits

'Mid the banqueting throng,

And listens with joy-
To the reveller's song.

Death to the tory, &c.

But his fate is now seal'd,

And his power is shaken,
And the people at last

From their slumber awaken;
For their blood has been shed

On the green grass sod,
And no power now rules them
Save that of their God!
Death to the tory.

Torture and shame!
Death to the tory.
Fagot and flame !

" That 's what I call a stirring song," said Barton,
when the last discord of voices in the chorus Iiad
died away. " ' Death to the tory !' I say. I exjiect
they'll be coming over to our side every day, now,

406 THE CAMP-FIRE

when tliey see we 're the strongest. That 's the way
with such folks."

" I told you Rattler knew how to do it/' said Dick
Crisp. "Now we'll have your story just as quick
as you please."

" Well, 1 11 soon put you in possession of what I
know about the surrender/' replied Sam. "You
must know, in the first place, that we — that is, the
brigade which I belong to — waited at "Williamsburgh
till the arrival of the army of Washington, and also
till Count Rochambeau arrived, which was on the
25th of last September. Everything was then pre-
pared for us to move towards Yorktown, as soon as
possible. You see, Cornwallis with his whole army
was at Yorktown, which was strongly fortified. I
guess the whole strength of the army, after the
French joined us, was about twelve thousand men.
Then the militia of Virginia were ordered out, which
soon made us a great deal stronger. The day before
we marched from Williamsburgh, General Washing-
ton told us, in his general orders, if we should meet
the red-coats on our march, to place our principal
reliance on the bayonet ; so that we might prove how
vain was their boasting of their skill in deciding
battles with that weapon."

" Was Washington commander-in-chief of all the
forces — French and American ?" enquired Crisp.
" Yes, I believe he was commander-in-chief of the

NEAR CHARLESTON. 407

united armies/' replied Sam. "All the general orders
were issued by him, at any rate. Well, the next
day, we started early in the morning, and the front
of the army halted about two miles from Yorktown,
at sunset of the same day. We were so near the
enemy, that General Washington ordered the whole
army, officers and soldiers, to lie on their arms all
night. I did n't sleep much that night, although I
laid down. John Higgins and I talked the best part
of the night. You see, John had what they call a
presentiment, I believe, that he was going to be killed
at Yorktown. As we were lying there, he mentioned
it to me. He said he knew he never would march
again with the army. I told him it was all fancy,
and tried to persuade him out of it ; but he could n't
be persuaded. Then says he to me, ' Sam, do n't you
think I 've done my duty to my country ?' Says I,
' You know I can't think otherwise, John ; you 've
been in her service for about seven years, and en-
dured all sorts of toils and sufferings; sometimes
without pay, or clothes, or anything to eat. You 've
certainly done your duty, and I hope you '11 live to
do a great deal more yet.' But he shook his head,
mournfully, and did n't say anything more for a while.
At last, he said, ' Sam, do you think you'll ever go
back to Springfield ?' — that 's where we ))otli were
raised. ' If I live till the war 's over,' said T. " Then
1 want to ask a f\ivor of you,* said he. ^ I left a

408 THE CAMP-FIRE

mother in Springfield, you know. She 11 look for me
to •come home, when the war's over. I've been
writing to her ofi* and on ever since I left home, and
sending her what money I could spare. Your parents
are both dead, and mother 's poor. "Will you see that
she don't want, for the little time she has to live on
earth ?' I promised him I would, should his fears
prove to be true ; and then he grasped my hand, and
shook it, while the tears trickled down his cheeks."

" Poor John !" said Dick ; and that was all he could
say, although his feelings were a good deal stirred by
the account of his friend's strange presentiment.

"He was a great friend to me," continued Sam,
" and I '11 remember his mother, if ever I get back to
Springfield. But I 'm wandering away from my nar-
rative. Yorktown is situated on the south side of
York river, about fifteen miles, I believe, from the
Chesapeake. Cornwallis's force in the town amounted
to seven thousand men, at least. Our army was en-
camped in a semicircle around the place. The Ame-
ricans formed the right wing, and the French the
left. Well, we lay there, without the British doing
anything to hurt us, till the 30th, when we found
that they had abandoned three or four of their re-
doubts, during the night, and retired within the town.
That left us a great deal of commanding ground ; and
our troops and a party of French were ordered to ad-
vance and take possession of the ground, while some

NEAR CHARLESTON. 409

of the other troops threw up breastworks. The
British Ccannonaded all that day; but they wasted
their ammunition ; for in the whole day's cannonade
they only wounded four militia-men. On that night,
we were set to work to throw up two redoubts ; and
we had them nearly finished before we were disco-
vered by the British. Then they poured their fire at
us. But we kept on till we finished our work. On
the 3d and 4th of October, they kept up a cannonade
all the time ; but they still wasted ammunition. We
could see that the red-coats were getting hard-pushed
for supplies, by the number of carcasses of horses
floating down the river near our quarters. I heard
that they killed six or seven hundred of them for
want of forage. The rascals resorted to everything
they could think of, to injure us ; no matter whether
it was allowed by the laws of war or not. They sent
a parcel of niggers, who had the small-pox, out of
Yorktown, to try to give it to our troops ; but they
were driven ofi*, and so that scheme was n't of much
benefit to them, or injury to us."

" It 's just like 'em," said Dick. " They do n't act
like civilized men, no how."

" Yes ; no matter how they are treated when they
are captured, or how tliey are spared when they arc
defeated, they always act like savages," replied Sam.
" But, as I said, they did n't succeed that time in
their devilish purpose. On the night of the Gth, u
35

410 THE CAMP-FIRE

large detacliment, in which was our regiment, waa
sent out, under command of General Lincoln, to open
entrenchments near the enemy's lines. The night
was very dark, and towards the latter part it was
rainy. Everything was conducted as silently as pos-
sible. Every officer and soldier knew his proper
station; we moved about a mile from our former
position. The working party were ahead, with all
their entrenching tools and fascines on their shoulders,
and then w^e followed, armed in full. Behind us,
were the wagons and horses, with bags of sand, for
throwing up breastworks, and the cannon and ord-
nance followed. Well, we worked hard all night,
taking turn about, and before daylight we had fin-
ished a line two miles in length, and laid the founda-
tion for two redoubts within six hundred yards of the
British lines. At daylight, they discovered us ; but
we were under cover then, and didn't mind their
blazing at us. It seemed that the French suffered
more than we did. One of them deserted to the
British ; and after that the British kept up a constant
fire against the French lines, and killed and wounded
some of their men. On the 8th and 9th, our troops
had a mighty hard time of it, I tell you. They had
to labor in the trenches, turn about, every other day
and night ; and you know what sort of work that is,
Dick.'*

" Yes, indeed, I think I do know something about

NEAR CHARLESTON. 411

that" replied Dick. " It 's the hardest work I ever
was engaged in."

" Well, we had it about as hard as anything of the
kind you or I ever saw," said Sam. " The weather
was pretty cold and damp; and, when we were re-
lieved, we had to sleep in the open field, with only a
blanket for a covering. I did n't suffer so much from
the cold, because I had come from a colder climate,
and had been through some cold winters. On the
night of the 9th, we erected a battery in front of our
line, without being annoyed by the British while at
work. We soon had two or three batteries ready to
open on the town; and, on the 10th, General Wash-
ington put the match to the first gun ; and then the
roaring and blazing commenced in real earnest. From
the 10th to the 15th, there was a continual fire kept
up both by the French and American batteries. It
was tremendous. Then there was the return fire
from the British. At -night, it seemed like a constant
thunder-storm, only a great deal more severe. One
night, — I forget whether it was the 11th or 12th, —
a red-hot shell from the French batteries set fire to
the British frigate Charon and two or three smaller
vessels. It was a splendid sight. The night was
dark, and we could see from our post the ships all iu
a blaze; and then the thundering of the cannon, and
the flashing of the light they made, with tht* addition
of the shells flying through the air, with a long line

412 THE CAMP-FIRE

of fire beliind them, made as grand a sight as I evei
saw. We had succeeded in throwing up another line
of entrenchment nearer to the town, and had bat-
teries within three hundred yards of the enemy's
lines. This was done in the night, also. But they
had two redoubts in front of their principal works,
which were in the way of our entrenchments ; and
these," it was resolved, should be carried by assault.
One of them was on the left of the British garrison,
on the bank of the river. This is the one our
brigade was to attack, under the command of General
Lafayette. The other was to be left to the French.
You see, Washington wanted to make us try to excel
each other in the attack. He wanted to get our
troops and the French excited by a desire to carry
the point of attack before each other."

" He knew, I suppose, that our troops could beat
the Frenchmen at that business," said Rattler.

" I do n't suppose he did know any such thing,"
replied Sam. " The French are good soldiers, let me
tell you ; and what we had in our army were some
of the best of the French. You must recollect that
we were led by a Frenchman — one of the best gene-
rals in the army. But I'll leave that matter to
others to discuss. I 'm satisfied of the bravery of the
French. The assault took place in the night. The
advanced body was led on by Colonel Hamilton and
Colonel Yimat. It was about eight o'clock when

NEAR CHARLESTON. 413

it commenced, and the men advanced without firing
j,a gun. I was just behind John Higgins, and I thought
of what he had said. He marched up to the work
with a firm step, like all the rest. You see, we were
going to carry the works altogether by the bayonet,
and we had to advance through the fire from the re-
doubt. Well, we pushed on after Hamilton and his
men ; and such was the ardor of the men, that, al-
though there was a tremendous fire from the whole
British line, we were in the redoubt in about ten
minutes after the assault commenced. I think we
had just fairly entered it, when John Higgins fell just
ahead of me ; he was shot through the head. I ex-
pected that we 'd have some killing to do with the
bayonet ; for some of the officers wanted to take re-
venge for the slaughter of our troops on two or three
occasions. But Colonel Hamilton would n't allow it,
and I think he w^as right. Some of the men that
did n't go into the redoubt wanted to know why we
did n't kill them all ; as if we could have the heart
to kill men that were on their knees, begging for
quarter." ,

"No; you did right," said Dick. "There's but
little use of our following such an example as the
British give us. We 're civilized men, and we ought
to keep up our character."

" Certainly," replied Sam. " The red-coats actually
did go down on their knees to us, begging for quarter.
35*

414 THE CAMP-FIRE

The commander of the fort was taken prisoner by
Colonel Laurens himself. Then there were thirty of
the men taken ; the rest made their escape."

" How many did you lose ?" enquired Rattler.

" We had only eight men killed, and thirty wound-
ed/' replied Sam. " I do n't know how many they
had killed and wounded ; but before we left the fort,
I saw a sergeant and eight men lying dead in the
ditch."

" How did the French make out in their attack ?"
asked Bill.

" Oh, I do n't know much about the particulars of
that attack," was the reply. " I know, however, that
they carried the redoubt a little while after we did
ours. They lost a good many men, too, I believe."

" What was the reason of their being longer about
it than you were ?" asked Dick.

" Oh, I believe they wanted to go more scientifically
about it. They waited till their pioneers cut away
the abattis, while we went to work at once, and pulled
it away with our hands. They were, of course, ex-
posed to the fire of t^e red-coats a good deal longer
than we were. But they did n't flunk a bit. Well,
to go on with my story, when these two redoubts
were captured, our second line was complete. Then
we threw up two or three new batteries in front of
that line, and some other works, till we had ap-
proached to within three hundred yards of their

NEAR CHARLESTON. 415

principal forts. We could see the execution our ar-
tillery done, by some of the batteries of the enemy
being entirely silenced, and the works almost in ruins.
On the 16th, the British made a sally. I suppose
they were getting desperate. About four hundred
men made an attack on two unfinished redoubts,
which vv^ere occupied by the French ; and they made
out well, too. They killed several men, and spiked
seven or eight pieces of cannon. But the French
advanced and drove them back, with the loss of
several killed and wounded. By the 17th, we had
the whole of our works in operation. There was at
least a hundred pieces of different kinds of ordnance,
that let loose their thunder and hail on the British
works. The firing was so heavy, that the ground
seemed to shake under us. We could see the ruin
we were making in the town and among their works.
Some of their batteries were entirely silenced. I saw
where the ground was ploughed up by the shells ;
and now and then you would see some of their men
torn all to pieces by them. It was really an awful
sight. At last, towards the close of that day, (that
was the 17th,) two or three flags were seen to come
from the British and proceed to head-quarters ; and it
was finally agreed to cease firing till the next day.
That evening, there was a small party of our com-
pany sent over to the other side of the camp, wliere
the French lay, on some business for Lafayette. I 'm

4:16 THE CAMP-FIRE

not sure, but I think it was to bring some baskets of
wine from the French commander's. I was with
them. It was just after a flag had arrived from the
enemy. We had to go by General Washington's
head-quarters; and as I saw the door was open, I
thought I 'd like to know what was going on. So, I
looked around to see if I could find any way of getting
at it, and I spied John Burley, on duty as sentinel,
near the door of the tent. You know John ; do n't
you, Dick ?"

" John Burley — John Burley," said Dick, musing.
" I think I recollect the name, but I do n't know any-
body just now to put it on." *

" Well, he belongs to Wayne's brigade," continued
Sam. " I do n't know what regiment or company it
is. He 's a tall, stout fellow, and he 's seen some
pretty rough service in this war. He was walking
near the door, on duty, and I told the men to go on,
and I 'd catch them in a little while. I went back,
and began to talk to John about old times, and how
he 'd been getting along ; all the time trying to see
what was going on inside of Washington's quarters.
I asked John ; and he said that a British officer had
just gone in with a flag. I knew that, and just asked
him, to make him believe I was n't curious about the
matter. Just then, I managed to get near the door ;
and I looked in, determined to have something to
tell my comrades when I got back. There I saw

I.fe

WASHINGTON SENDING HIS ULTIMATUM TO CORNWALLIS.

NEAR CHARLESTON". 417

General Washington, standing straight upright, along-
side of the table. He was just handing some papers,
or a letter, — I couldn't see which, — to a British
officer, who was about to leave. You know what a
noble-looking figure and face he has. He looked
prouder than I ever saw him before. Two or three
of his aids were sitting on the other side of the table.
I could n't get more than a glance at things inside,
before John beckoned me away. But he told me that
General Washington was just sending his * ultimatum,'
I think he called it, to Lord Cornwallis."

" What 's an ultimatum T asked Battler.

" Why," replied Sam, a little hesitatingly, " it 's a
sort of a last statement of terms, upon which two
generals, that are fighting against each other, can ar-
range a peace or a surrender. That is, if ihQ whipped
general don't accept this ultimatum, he'll have to
continue to fi^ii. Washington knew he had Corn-
wallis safe enough, and he made him come into the
terms that suited us. Cornwallis wanted to march
out, with his colors flying; but General Lincoln
was n't allowed that honor at Charleston, and Wash-
ington wanted Cornwallis to come into the same
terms. Well, I bid John good-bye, and hurried on
after the men, full of news of what I had seen and
heard. The next morning, we found that Cornwallis
had tried to make his escape down the river, in boats,
in the night. Well, that morning, the conmiissiouers

2b

418 THE CAMP-FIRE

were appointed to arrange terms of capitulation ; and
we still remained quiet in our works, till we heard
that everything had been settled, and that the British
army were to march out and lay down their arms.
Then we almost jumped for joy at our triumph. We
had plenty of good eating and drinking given to us,
as soon as it was known that the red-coats had agreed
to surrender; and we had a jolly time of it through-
out the camp."

" I 'd have given twenty dollars to have been on
the ground at the time of the surrender," said Dick ;
'' and that 's a big sum of money for one in my con-
dition."

"Yes, it was a sight worth seeing, Dick," said Sam.
" It would have been a good deal more to you men,
though, than it was to us; because youVe had so
many skrimmages with them. The surrender took
place on the 19th of October. The red-coats were to
march out with shouldered arms, colors cased, and
their drums beating a British or German march. All
the marines and seamen of their ships were to be
prisoners of war to the navy of France, and the land
troops to the United States. All their military and
artillery stores were to be given to us unimpaired.
One thing that galled us most, was the escape of the
most rascally of the tories. You see. General Wash-
ington arranged the terms so, that the tories were to
be delivered to us without any conditions for their

NEAR CHARLESTOX. 419

treatment. But Cornwallis contrived to get him to
allow a vessel to go to New York, with despatches to
Sir Henry Clinton, without the vessel's being searched.
In this way, the tories that General Washington most
wanted to get hold of, were smuggled to New York."

"That was an ingenious contrivance," said Dick.
" Them infernal tories are what you ought to have
caught particularly. I know in the South, here,
they Ve all deserved hanging."

" Yes ; not only in the South, but everywhere else
in the States," replied Sam. " But they got off there,
anyhow. About twelve o'clock, on the 19th, we
were all drawn up in two lines, extending more than
a mile in length. The Americans were drawn up on
the right side of the road, and the French were on
the left. At the head of our line, the great Wash-
ington was stationed, with his aids ; and at the head
of the French line was Count Rochambeau and his
aids. There was almost as many people there, from
the neighborhood, to see the surrender, as there was
troops; but all was in good order. I think the
French looked about as handsome and soldierlike in
their uniforms as any body of troops I ever saw.
They had some splendid bands of music, too, which
added a great deal to the novelty of the scene. You
might suppose we did n't look near so well as they
did, for we were not all in uniform ; and what troops
were in uniform did n't look very neat.'*

420 TEE CAMP-FIRE

" Yes, I suppose the French made the best show ;
they always do/' observed Dick.

" They really looked well, that day, and no mis-
take," continued Sam. " But they never would have
looked so, if they had seen the service most of our
troops had seen. About two o'clock, whcxi the British
army began to move through the two lines, I was
looking to see Cornwallis, as was most of the troops
and people. Just as they came in sight, I saw an
officer, on a splendid horse, dressed in a complete
British general's uniform. Jack Hand was standing
next to me, and he got on his tiptoes to look at him.
^ There 's Cornwallis, now,' said he ; and all around
us began to murmur and whisper, ' There he comes !'
^There's Cornwallis!' But when the general got
nearer, I saw it was n't Cornwallis ; for I had seen
him two or three times before. I saw him at Ger-
mantown very clearly, and I knew that he was n't
the man that was coming up. As soon as it got to
be known, everybody looked disappointed. It turned
out to be General O'Harra, who had been appointed
to supply the place of Cornwallis, who pretended he
was sick — ^ indisposed,' he called it. I guess he was
indisposed to show himself at the head of his con-
quered army, because he was too proud. A com-
mander who won't share the troubles of his troops,
as well as their victories and conquests, ought to be
shot ; that 's my opinion."

NEAR CHARLESTON. 421

^^ Thcat would n't have been the course of WashuiG:-
ton/' said Rattler. " If his troops had been compelled
to surrender, he would have been at the head of the
column."

" Well, you know there 's a great deal of difference
between the characters of Cornwallis and Washinfr-
ton/' replied Sam. "After General O'llarra, came
the red-coat army. They were dressed in full uni-
form, and looked well enough, as far as that goes ;
but their ranks were broken, and they had an irre-
gular step. They seemed to feel the disgrace they
had to bear, and some of them hung their heads.
Their arms were shouldered, and their drums beat a
British march. When they got to the head of our
line, Genera] O'Harra rode to the commander-in-chief,
and, taking off his hat, apologized for the absence of
Lord Cornwallis. General Washington pointed to
General Lincoln, for directions. That general con-
ducted the British army to a large field, just beyond
our lines, but within our view. There was the trial
for the dogged, obstinate Britons. Their platoon
officers gave the word, ' Ground arms !' and they
threw their muskets on the pile as if they wanted to
break them, till General Lincohi put a stop to it.
When they had finished laying down tlieir arms, they
were all escorted back to Yorktown, by our troops,
to stay there till they could be removed to the in-
terior of Maryland. The r>ritish troops stationed at
36

422 THE CAMP-FIRE

Gloucester surrendered, about tlie same time, to the
French general, De Choise."

"Then, I suppose, you Americans marched into
camp, to the tune of Yankee Doodle -, did n't you ?"
enquired Dick.

" Yes, we were in high spirits," replied Sam. " The
people who had come from all parts of the neighbor-
ing country, to see the surrender, cheered us loudly,
I tell you, as soon as they heard that tune. It set
them in such spirits that they could n't contain them-
selves. They burst out in cheer after cheer. It was
a great day for us."

" How large was the army that surrendered ?" en-
quired Rattler.

"The troops, of every kind, that surrendered,
amounted to at least seven thousand," replied Sam.
" But there was so many sick and wounded, that it
was found there was only about four thousand capable
of bearing arms. Then there was fifteen hundred
seamen, who shared the fate of their army. I think
there was about a hundred and thirty cannon and
mortars, brass and iron together, that became our
property ; there were, also, about eight thousand good
muskets."

"What was the loss on both sides, during the
siege ?" enquired Dick.

" I hardly know what the loss of the British was,"
replied Sam. "The American troops lost twenty-

NEAR CHARLESTON. 423

seven killed and seventy-three wounded. The French
lost fifty killed and one hundred and twenty-seven
wounded. I think the loss of the British was more
than five hundred, anyhow."

"Well, they may congratulate themselves, upon
getting off with so small a loss,'* said Dick ; " for, I
suppose, if they had held out a little longer, they
would have been cut up horribly.*'

"No mistake about that," replied Sam. "I'm
sure I couldn't give you an idea how things looked
in Yorktown. I went all through it, soon after the
siege. Some of the houses were very much like
honeycomb. Furniture and books were scattered all
over the ground, and the carcasses of men and horses
could be seen, half covered with earth. In some
places, the ground was thrown up into mounds, by
the force of our shells. I did n't see any place a
man could have stood in, where he could be safe. It
was no wonder they surrendered."

" It would have been best for them to have done it
some time before ; it would have saved life," said Bill.
" But Cornwallis thought only of his reputation. It
was pride made him hold out."

" That 's all ; there 's not much doubt about it,"
replied Sam. "But it's getting pretty late in the
night. I 'm afraid we won't hear about the Cowpens,
if Bill don't soon get at the telling of it."

"Plenty of time, if you're not sleepy," returned

424 THE CAMP-FIRE

Bill. '^ The battle of the Cowpens won't detain you
long. .It was a short action, but a confounded hoi
one."

"I'm anxious to hear about it/' said Sara. "I
know .what General Morgan is. I know there must
have been a hot action. Let me see. Tarleton was
the British leader ; was n't he ?"

" Yes ; Colonel Tarleton was their leader/' was the
reply. "He's a sort of celebrated character down
this way. But Morgan was too much for him."

" Well, go on, Bill ; let 's hear about the Cowpens/'
said Sam.

"In the first place, there's no time to tell you
about the manoeuvring we had just before the battle,"
began Bill, " any more than that we were posted be-
yond the Wateree, to watch the movements of the
enemy at Camden and Wynsborough. We took our
position on the 25th of December, 1781. We were
under the command of General Morgan, and num-
bered, after we were joined by Pickens's militia,
about seven hundred in all. There was our infantry,
under Colonel Howard, numbering about three hun-
dred; about one hundred and seventy-five Virginia
riflemen ; and about seventy light dragoons, under
the dashing Colonel William Washington. The
North and South Carolina militia numbered about
two hundred, under Colonel Pickens. Well, about
the 15th of January, General Morgan got word from

NEAR CHARLESTON. 425

General Greene, putting him on his guard against a
detachment he said was coming against us. Morgan
thought it would be the best plan to keep out of a
battle as long as possible, with such a small number
of troops as he had, and he concluded to retreat from
our position. On the 16th, our scouts brought us
word that more than a thousand of the red-coats,
under Colonel Tarleton, were coming in pursuit of us.
They had seen them. So Morgan thought there was
no time to lose, and we moved off in quick time ; and
it was well we did; for we heard, afterwards, that
Tarleton was on the same ground about three hours
after we had left. We marched all night, over the
roughest ground, and through marshes, till we came
to a place where Morgan thought there was a good
chance for making a stand. It was an open wood,
called the Cowpens, near the Pacolet river. Before
daylight, we were all drawn up in order of battle.
The North and South Carolina militia, under Colonel
Pickens, formed the first line, which was advanced a
few hundred yards before the second, with orders to
form on the right of the second, when forced to give
way. Our light infantry, and the Virginia ritlomen,
composed the second Hue, which was connnanded by
Colonel Howard. The cavalry of Colonel Washing-
ton, and about forty mounted militia, under Colonel
M'Call, were some distance in the rear. T suppose
you can understand this disposition ; can't you ?"
30 ='=

426 THE CAMP-FIRE

" Oh^ yes, I understand the line of battle/' replied
Sam. " I 've seen many a one drawn up in the same
manner."

" Well, if you understand it, I '11 go on," said Bill.
" Just at daylight, we caught sight of the enemy,
coming up as fast as they could. They did n't wait
even to form their line. Tarleton was so sure of vic-
tory, that he gave the order to advance while they
were forming. On they came, with a shout, and
poured their fire into us ; but Pickens's militia were
ordered to keep their fire till the enemy were within
forty or fifty yards, and then throw it into them.
They did their duty ; but though the infantry of the
enemy suffered a considerable loss, they pressed on,
and the militia had to give way. I forgot to tell you
that the British had two field-pieces, and we had
none ; that was another advantage, besides their
numbers and discipline. Well, then our turn came,
as the militia give way, and we stood our ground,
and delivered our fire with terrible effect, till they
came upon us too thick and fast, and we fell back to
the cavalry. We were the only regular continental
troops on the field. About the time we fell back,
Colonel Ogilvie, of the British cavalry, charged on
our right flank, with about forty men ; and he was
cutting down the militia at a butchering rate, when
Colonel Washington charged them with his dragoons,
and beat them back in confusion. Just as that was

NEAR CHARLESTON. 427

done, we saw that so many of the British had fallen,
especially officers, that they were too few to follow up
their advantage, and that Tarleton's cavalry did n't
move to their assistance ; and Colonel Howard rallied
our whole force, and charged the foe with fixed bayo-
nets. You never saw a set of men more astonished.
They thought they had defeated us. The militia
rallied about the same time, and charged on them.
The advance fell back, and that started the whole of
them. Nearly three hundred horse, that had not
been engaged, fled through the woods, in confusion.
The cannon was soon secured by our troops, after
killing and wounding almost all that had been de-
tached to manage them. Their infantry was thrown
into confusion, as we pressed on with the bayonet ;
and Colonel Howard called out to them to lay down
their arms, and they should have quarter. I guess
about five hundred of their splendidly-equipped in-
fantry laid down their arms to our militia and our
continentals together. Colonel Washington pursued
their cavalry for several miles ; but the best part of
them escaped. I heard, since, that Tarleton received
a cut on the hand, from Washington, so near was he
on to him ; but he escaped. The only infantry that
got off, was a body left to guard tlie baggage. They
destroyed })art of the bangage that tlioy couldn't
carry off, and away they wont, on the spare horses
and in the wagons. Tliey all escaped."

428 THE CAMP-FIRE

^^ Ho, ho, ho !" laughed Sam. " That loas a victory.
How many did you lose, and how many did they
lose? Tell us all the particulars."

'' We only had twelve killed and sixty wounded,"
replied Bill. " Think of that. They had ten com-
missioned officers and a hundred rank and file, Jdlled,
and two hundred wounded. Twenty-nine commis-
sioned officers, and more than five hundred privates,
fell into our hands as prisoners. I felt pretty savage
for awhile, because the Colonel would n't let us kill
some of the red-coats we took. They were about as
big a set of rascals as ever breathed. If we had been
defeated, they would have cut us all off without
mercy. But I got over my feelings, when I got a
little cooler. I do n't believe a man was killed after
he had surrendered. The two pieces of cannon we
captured, had seen some strange travels. They had
been taken from the British, at Saratoga, and then
retaken by them, at Camden, and now recovered by
us again. There were two standards, eight hundred
muskets, thirty-five baggage-wagons, and a hundred
dragoon horses, taken."

" That was as glorious a victory as was ever gained
by any troops," remarked Sam. "Only think of
about half as many militia as there were regular
British troops, not only defeating them, but killing or
capturing almost the whole force ! It was really
great."

NEAR CHARLESTON. 429

^^You may well say that/' returned Dick; "but
the best of it was, that it happened just at the time
when our troops and friends were in the lowest
spirits. That made it seem more glorious ; and Con-
gress voted a gold medal to General Morgan, and
silver ones to Howard and Washington."

" Yes ; and a sword to Pickens," added Bill. "' The
militia done their duty that day, and Pickens de-
served something handsome."

" Well, I'll have to get you fellows to tell me more
about the Southern campaign when you get time,"
said Sam. " But I '11 go to my quarters, now."

" I '11 see you again, to-morrow, Sam," said Dick.
'' Good-night."

After bidding their visitor good-night, the men
arranged the fire, and prepared themselves for repose,
with the exception of Dick, who was left on duty as
sentinel. There we will leave him to muse on the
comrades he had lost during the war ; the memory of
them having been awakened by the narrative of Sam
Barton.

General IVkiM.

THE OFFICERS' CAROUSAL.

The war was ended in all but the name. A treaty
of peace had not yet, however, been concluded be-
tween the government of Great Britain and her re-
bellious — because liberty-loving — child. The greater
part of the army of Washington proceeded north-
ward, soon after the capture of Cornwallis ; and, after
a great many movements from place to place, we find
them, on the 31st of August, 1783, encamped at Yer-
planck's Point, on the Hudson Kiver, opposite Stony
Point. The troops were improving greatly in disci-
pline and appearance, under the able management of
the commander-in-chief, and all were in the best
spirits.

It was a lovely moonlight night — such as Septem-
ber, in its early stage, alone can furnish. The white
tents of the encampment, arranged in parallel lines,
presented a singular sight to the distant spectator,
while the lonely sentinels, removed from their com-
panions, coUi^d not but enjoy the cool air, and the
beauty of the night. Some of the tent-doors were

(430)

THE OFFICERS CAKOUSING AT VERPLANCK'S POINT.

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 431

pushed aside, to admit the light of the sweet lamp of
heaven, to serve in the place of dimmer, yet more
glaring, luminaries. From these, the hum of conver-
sation or the voice of song issued upon the night.
To one of them we turn our attention, and record
what is said and done. Three officers are seated upon
their camp-stools, at a common-looking table, passing
the time in the joviality inspired by the rosy liquid
they imbibe from their well-filled glasses. Crackers
and cheese added their comforting influence to the
carousal, serving to make the fare more substantial.
The accoutrements of the three were thrown upon
the floor ; alongside of the table, were a pitcher of
water and a bottle of champagne, waiting till its pre-
decessor upon the table should be emptied. One of
the officers was evidently older than the other two,
and had seen harder service, — judging from his ap-
pearance. The other two were in the full bloom of
manhood.

" Now, Morton, tell us one of your stories," said
the youngest of the officers, to the eldest. *• We are
just in the humor for it."

" I suppose I have told you about Charlie Morgan ;
haven^tir

" Never heard you," was the reply.

" Well, then, I '11 tell you, now, all I know about
Charlie."

Here the speaker, as is customary among story-

432 THE officers' CAROUSxiL.

tellers, about to begin, took a drink, assumed ac
easy posture, and commenced : —

Charlie Morgan, the son of a respectable farmer in
Jersey, one day took it into his wise head to " 'list."

" Mother," said he, " I want to 'list in the army."

" Lord o' marcy !" exclaimed the old woman, put-
ting up her hands, and, in her astonishment, dropping
her stocking, (to the great delight of a sly kitten,
who immediately seized upon it,) "what? do you
want to be a soger ?"

" Yes, I do," answered Charlie.

"And go away and leave your poor mother, and
your old daddy ?"

" Why, mother, it is for the good of you both, that
I want to go. I shall earn a heap of money."

Here he " put the case " in the most tempting man-
ner to the old lady; who, when she had in some
measure recovered from her astonishment, promised
to speak to her "old man," and to persuade him
into giving his consent to Charlie's wishes. Her son
put on his hat, and stepped to the cottage door.

" But, my boy," said his mother, " there 's Jenny,
-—what '11 she say?"

Now, Charlie Morgan, who was as fine-looking a
specimen of a rustic as ever walked the ground, with
black eyes, under a quantity of curling brown hair,
a tall, stalwart figure, and erect walk, had found
favor in the sight of Jenny Commel, a pretty, blue-

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 433

eyed damsel of eighteen, the daughter of his next-
door neighbor ; and his sudden determination to enlist
was the result of an attack of jealousy.

'' Never you mind, mother," said he, in reply to
her last question, " I '11 settle matters with Jenny."

Whereupon, he walked into the garden, out of the
gate, up the gravel walk of the next yard, and finally
stood still, opposite Miss Jenny, who was industri-
ously spinning, at her door.

"Good afternoon. Miss Commel," said Charlie,
stiffly. " I did not expect to find you at home ; I
thought you would certainly be out taking a pleasant
walk with George Cobert, the dunce."

" George Cobert 's no dunce !" answered Jenny,
firing up; "he's a brave man, ind a good soldier;
not a man to stay at home, working on a farm, when
his country 's sufiering 1"

"The deuce!" thought Charlie. "I'm in a fair
way of ' biting off my nose, to spite my flice.' Jenny
likes this soldiering."

" Besides," continued Jenny, " you was n't very far
wrong in your guess ; he '11 be here directly, to take
me to ride."

" The devil !" exclaimed Charlie ; who .straightway
put on his hat, strode out of the garden, and enlisted
that very evening, and .set out fur the army, Avitliout
so much as informing Jenny of his intentions, or
bidding her good-bye. He joined the Jersey brigade,
37 2g

434 THE officers' carousal.

and proving a good soldier, attracted the attention of
General Lafayette. That officer, in the course of
movements on the James River, being anxious to
procure exact information as to the force under Corn-
wallis, proposed to Charlie Morgan, and to George
Cobert, that one of them should enter the British
camp, in the character of a deserter, in order to spy
out their plans. Charlie undertook the perilous en-
terprise ; merely stipulating that, if he was detected
and hanged as a spy, General Lafayette would cause
it to be inserted in the Jersey newspapers, that he
had acted under the orders, and according to the com-
mands, of that officer.

Escaping the dangers of the journey, the pretended
deserter succeeded in passing the British lines, and
was conducted into the presence of Cornwallis. That
general, seated in his tent, began to question Charlie.

" My good fellow," said he, " why did you desert
the American army ?"

" Oh, your lordship," replied Charlie, " when I first
entered the American army, at the beginning of the
war, I was put under George Washington's command,
and I was satisfied to serve under him; but, now that
they have gone and put me and the rest under the
command of the Frenchman, Mister Lafayette, there,
I did not like it at all ; and that 's why I deserted."

" Then I suppose you want to enter this army, and
serve us, and fight for our cause ?" asked Cornwallis.

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 435

'' Yes, if it please your lordship, I should like it
exceedingly," answered Charlie.

"Very well; I will receive you," replied Corn
wallis ; and Charlie was accordingly received without
suspicion. He was punctual and exact in discharging
his duties as a British soldier, and meantime very
carefully observed and treasured up in his remem-
brance all that passed around him. Nothing was
suffered to escape his quick observation. One day,
while he was on duty with his comrades, the British
soldiers, Lord Cornwallis, who was in earnest conver-
sation with some of his officers, called to Charlie, and
when he approached, asked him,

" How long, my good fellow, do you think it will
take Lafayette to cross the James Kiver ?"

" Three hours, your lordship," was the quick reply.
"Three hours!" ejaculated Cornwallis; "are you
sure ? I should have supposed that it would have
required at least three days."

" Oh ! bless your soul, no ! your lordship," answered
Charlie. " The Gent^ral, there, has so many boats ;
each boat will carry so many men ; and if your lord-
ship will merely take the trouble and time to calculate
all that, you will come to the conclusion that he can
cross in three hours, instead of three days, your lord-
ship."

At the conclusion of tliis speech of Cliarlie's, Lord
Cornwallis turned to liis officers, and, in the hearing

436 THE officers' carousal.

of the young American, said, " Our scheme will not
answer at all, then."

Charlie Morgan now resolved to abandon his new
friends ; and, in order to escape, he -determined to
ply his companions with liquor, until they should be
in high spirits, from the effects of the grog.

" What will you take to drink ?" said he to some
of them, one day.

" Oh, we '11 go and ^ grog,' " answered they.

" Well, come along," said Charlie ; who accordingly
gave them all, four in number, as much as they could
drink; and when he had succeeded in somewhat
clouding their intellectual faculties, and lessening
their reasoning powers, he began to comj)lain of the
wants of the British troops, and to paint in glowing
colors the luxuries enjoyed by the American araiy ;
extolling the kindness of the officers, the privileges
granted to the soldiers, and, above all, tickling the
appetites of his comrades, by a glowing description
of the abundant and excellent provisions; and, in
conclusion, he proposed to them to desert. They
agreed to accompany him, and left it to him to
manage the sentinels. This, Morgan agreed to do.
When he reached the first sentinel, he offered him,
in an apparently friendly manner, a draught of rum
from his canteen.

^^Here, take a drink/' said Charlie, offering him
the canteen.

THE OFFICERS CAROUSAL. 4o/

"Thank you; that's just what I was wishing for,"
replied the man, taking the canteen from Morgan's
hand ; but while he was drinking, Charlie seized his
arms, and then proposed to him to desert with him
and his companions ; which proposition the man was
obliged to accept, from necessity. Arrived at the
next sentinel's post, Charlie served him in the same
way ; and he, too, fell into the snare, and accepted
his proposals. The third sentinel shared the same
fate; and when Charlie arrived at the American
camp, his ' suite ' consisted of seven British deserters !
On his presenting himself before Lafayette, to whom
he was immediately conducted, the General exclaimed,
" Well, my good friend, Charlie Morgan ! have you
got back ?"

" Oh, yes, here I am at last, please your excellency,
and I have brought seven more with me."

"Ah, indeed," said Lafayette; "where are they?"
" Here, your excellency," replied Charlie ; " if you
will just step out to the front of your tent, I'll show
them to you."

" The General, accordingly, on leaving tlie tent,
was shown the seven British deserters, who composed
Charlie's retinue. General Lafayette oflered Charlie
money. "No, I tliank your excellency," replied he;
sturdily declining any pecuniary recompense for his
important services; merely requesting to be allowed
to resume his position in his company.
37*

438 THE officers' carousal.

" But, my good fellow," said Lafayette, " would you
not like to be raised to the rank of corporal ?"

" No, I thank your excellency ; I am content to be
what I am in the American army — a common sol-
dier."

"Perhaps the rank of sergeant may have some
attractions for you, then ?" persisted the General.

" No, your excellency," was the reply ; "I will not
have any promotion. I have abilities and talents as
a common soldier, and I have as such a good charac-
ter : should I be promoted, my abilities may not
answer to my rank ; and then, you know, I may lose
my former character. There is, however," continued
Charlie^ " one request which I would make, of your
excellency; and that is, that my fellow deserters,
here," pointing to the British soldiers, "may have
shoes, stockings, and under garments, and jackets,
provided for them, as well as for myself."

This request was straightway granted; and the
General gave orders that all the wants of the de-
serters, as well as Charlie's, should be attended to,
and supplied.

Charlie Morgan served a long time in the army;
but after this first exploit, married the pretty Jenny
Commel, with great rejoicing. That was a merry
wedding. I danced at it ; and Jenny makes Charlie
a good wife.

Here the narrator ceased.

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 439

'^ Now it 's your turn," said the second officer, ad-
dressing the third, "to contribute to our entertain-
ment. Will you favour us with some story ?"

" Willingly," replied Wethering, the officer thus
addressed. " I am sensible that I am about to repeat
a thrice-told tale ; but there is so much appearance
of romantic gallantry in Colonel Barton's exploit, that
I trust I shall be pardoned for making still another
effiDrt to keep it in view of all who delight to give to
patriotic enterprise the applause which is its due.
Sometime in July, 1777, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton,
having received information that Major-General Pres-
cott, who commanded the British and foreign troops,
on Rhode Island, had established his head-quarters
at a country house, at some distance from the main
body of his army, resolved on the attempt to bring
him off as his prisoner. To accomplish his purpose,
thirty-eight men were selected from the line ; who,
being embarked in five boats, set out on the expedi-
tion. The task they had to perform was difficult and
dangerous. The British posts on the island were
many and strong, and reported to be ever on the
alert ; while a considerable naval arnuimcnt protected
it, on every side, from invasion. The ships and
guard-boats being passed in the dead of the night,
witli mullled oars, and no discovery made, Lieutenant-
Coloni'l IJartou buKk'd liis party; and having first
eecured the sentinel, entered the General's apartment,

140 THE officers' CAROUSAL.

and took liim from his bed. His aid-de-camp made a
desperate attempt to escape, by leaping from a win-
dow ; but he was pursued, and speedily secured, also.
Expedition was not only necessary, but essential for
safety. A large body of dragoons lay in the neigh-
borhood; and signal-rockets, discharged in the air
from different quarters, showed that a general alarm
had already spread. Every comfort was afforded the
prisoners, that circumstances would allow ; and Lieu-
tenant-Colonel Barton had, at early dawn, the good
fortune to land them in safety, after a passage of ten
miles, at the spot, within the American lines, from
which he had set out.

"I remember, many years since, to have heard a
highly-respectable clergyman say, that, in the year
1746, he resided on the post-road between Culloden
and Aberdeen ; and that, in the evening of the day
on which the battle was fought, on which the fate of
the empire depended, he had received into his house
an English officer, from the South, hastening to join
the Duke of Cumberland's army. During the night,
the aid-de-camp, carrying the news of victory to Lon-
don, demanded hospitality also; and fully relating
the extent of the triumph over the forces of the Pre-
tender, the Englishman exclaimed, ' Would to Heaven
I had that formidable rebel, Gordon of Glenbucket,
as my prisoner ! I would fasten him up in a cage,
and carry him through England, as a show ; where

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 441

his terrific name has made such an impression, that
there is not a clown throughout the country, who
does not believe that he eats one child, at least, for
his morning's breakfast ! I should speedily make a
most ample fortune.' I was present when a particular
friend of my own, sometime after Colonel Barton's
successful expedition, addressing him with a very
serious air, said, ' I wish, my dear Barton, that I had
you caged, that I might show you as the hero who
made prisoner the renowned and formidable British
general, Prescott. I would ask no better income than
the cash that would be received from the exhibition/
The Colonel appeared delighted at the thought ; and
I seriously believe, if a cage had been in preparation,
he would have cheerfully stepped into it, for the plea-
sure of enjoying the wonder and astonishment that
would have been displayed, when the gaping specta-
tors discovered that he was hut a inan"

The third officer, a young man named ^yaHace,
was then called upon for a story, and gave the fol-
lowing : —

"At a convivial meeting, (at which the healths of
the captors of Andre had been drunk, and a toast
proposed to the memory of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins,
who achieved the capture of Joseph Bettys, a noto-
rious traitor and spy,) the venerable Colonel Ball,
who presided, made the statement wliich follows: —
* During the war of the Revolution, 1 was an officer

442 THE officers' carousal.

in a New York line, in the regiment commanded by
Colonel Wynkoop. Being acquainted with Bettys,
who was a citizen of Ballston, and knowing him to
be bold, athletic, and intelligent in an uncommon de-
gree, I was desirous of obtaining his services for my
country, and succeeded in enlisting him as a sergeant.
He was afterwards reduced to the ranks, on account
of some insolence to an officer, who he said had abused
him without a cause. Knowing his irritable and de-
termined spirit, and unwilling to lose him, I procured
him the rank of sergeant, in the fleet commanded
by General Arnold, (afterwards a traitor,) on Lake
Champlain, in 76. Bettys was in that desperate
fight, which took place in the latter part of the cam-
paign, between the British and American fleets on
that lake ; and being a skilful seaman, was of signal
service during the battle. He fought until every
commissioned officer on board his vessel was killed or
wounded, and then assumed the command himself,
and fought with such reckless courage, that General
Waterbury, who was second in command under Ar-
nold, perceiving that the vessel was likely to sink,
was obliged to order Bettys, and the remainder of his
crew, on board his own vessel ; and having noticed
his extraordinary bravery and conduct, he stationed
him on the quarter-deck, by his side, and gave orders
through him ; until the vessels becoming altogether
crippled, the men mostly killed, himself wounded,

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 443

and only three officers left, the colors were struck to
the enemy. General Waterbury afterwards told my
father, that he never saw a man behave with such
deliberate desperation as Bettys. And the shrewd-
ness of his management showed that his conduct was
not inferior to his courage. After the action, Bettys
went to Canada, — turned traitor to his country, — re-
ceived an ensign's commission in the British army, —
became a spy, — and proved himself a most dangerous
and subtle enemy. He was at length arrested, tried,
and condemned to be hung at West Point. But the
entreaties of his aged parents, and tlie solicitations
of influential whigs, induced General Washington to
pardon him, on promise of amendment. But it was
in vain. The generosity of the act only added rancor
to his hatred ; and the whigs of that section of the
country, especially of Ballston, had deep occasion to
remember the traitor, and to regret the unfortunate
lenity they had caused to be shown him. lie re-
cruited soldiers for the King, in the very heart uf the
country, lie captured and carried oil' the most effi-
cient and zealous patrols, and subjected them to the
greatest suffering; and those against whom he had
particular malice, lost their dwellings by fire, or lives
by murder; and all tliis, while the British com-
mander kei)t him in employ, as a faithful and most
successful messenger, and a cunning and intelligent
epy. No fatigue wearied his resolution, no distunce

444 THE officers' carousal.

was an obstacle to his purpose, and no danger ap-
palled his courage. No one felt secure. Sometimes,
in the darkness of the night, lie came by stealth upon
us ; and sometimes, in the middle of the noonday, he
was prowling about, as if unconscious of danger. He
boldly proclaimed himself a desperado — that he
carried his life in his hand — that he was as careless
of it as he should be of that of others, should they
undertake to catch him — that his liberty was guarded
by his life ; and whoever should undertake to deprive
him of it, must expect to mingle their blood with his.
And it was well understood, that what Bettys said,
Bettys meant ; and as well ascertained, that when he
came among us, to perpetrate his mischief, he gene-
rally brought with him a band of refugees, and con-
cealed them in the neighborhood, to assist him to
accomplish his purposes. Still, there were many who
resolved on his apprehension, be the danger what it
might ; and many ineffectual attempts were made for
that purpose. But he eluded all their vigilance, till
sometime in the winter of '81-82, when a suspicious
stranger was observed in the neighborhood, in snow-
shoes, and well armed. Cory and Fulmer, on inform-
ation from Perkins, immediately armed themselves,
and, with the latter, proceeded in pursuit. They
traced him, by a circuitous track, to the house of a
tory, and then, by a sudden effort, bursting open the
door, rushed upon him and seized him, before he had

THE officers' CAROUSAL. 445

an opportunity of effecting any resistance. He was
at his meal, with his pistols lying on the table, and
his rifle resting on his arm ; he made an attempt to
discharge the latter ; but not having taken the pre-
caution to undo the deerskin cover that was over the
lock, did not succeed. He was then pinioned so
closely, that to resist was useless, and to escape im-
possible. And the notorious Bettys, cheated of all
his threats, and foiled in his most particular resolu-
tion, was obliged to yield himself a tame and quiet
prisoner to the daring of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins.
He asked leave to smoke ; which being granted, he
took out his tobacco, and, with something else, when
unobserved as he hoped, he threw it into the fire.
Cory, however, saw it, and immediately snatched it
out with a handful of coals. It was a small leaden
box, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, and
contained a paper in cipher, which they could not
read ; but it was afterwards discovered to be a des-
patch to the British commander at New York, and
also an order fur thirty pounds sterling, on the Mayor
of New York, should the despatch be safely delivered.
Bettys begged leave to burn it, but was refused ; he
offered them a hundred guineas if he might be al-
lowed to do it; but they steadily refused. He then
said, 'I am a dead man,' but continued to entreat
them to allow him to escape. He made the most
liberal offers — a part of which lie had present means
38

446 THE officers' carousal.

to make good; but they refused to listen to him.
He was then taken to Albany, tried, convicted, and
executed as a spy and traitor to his country ; and the
only reward these darhig men ever received for their
hazardous achievement, was the rifle and pistols of
Bettys ! The conduct of the captors of Andre was
noble; but that of the captors of Bettys was both
noble and heroic. Andre was a gentleman, and with-
out the means of defence. Bettys was fully armed,
and known to be a desperado. The capture of the
former was by accident ; that of the latter, by enter-
prise and design. That of the former, without dan-
ger ; that of the latter, at the imminent peril of life.
Andre was a more important, but, perhaps, not a
more dangerous man than Bettys. Both tempted
their captors with all-seducing gold, and both were
foiled. And Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart,
though venerated in the highest degree by me, as
having exhibited a trait of character honorable to
the reputation of their country, have not, in my
estimation, claims to celebrity superior to those of
Fulmer, Cory and Perkins.' The President having
concluded, the toast was drunk, amidst the most
thundering applause."

" Such applause, in fact," continued Wallace, '^ as
I deserve from you," (turning to his companions,)
"for my story."

His companions gave him ''' three rounds," and

THE officers' CAROUSAL.

447

then, after discussing the merits of the respective
captors of Andre and Bettys, and also finishing an-
other bottle of champagne, the three ofTicers retired
to their quarters.

rapture dI' Aiidr6.

'!-i!nii!l,fe